Devil's Advocate
by UThnkUrFunny IThnkImAdorable
Summary: AU theyre unrelated. Dean's family is killed by a demon and is trained as a hunter. Sam discovers he IS a demon and is kept in a painful existence. What happens when they're paths cross? Hurt!Sam Protective!Dean Limp!Both Mean!Gordon
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**In this chapter, Dean is 16 and Sam is 12 (they're unrelated) For the majority of the story though, they're 19 and 15.**

**This story is totally AU and the idea just wouldn't leave me alone! I'm sorry for starting yet ANOTHER story! I won't be continuing it unless it gets an amazing response or something. Lightness and Darkness is still my priority.  
**

**Enjoy chapter one!**

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Dean tapped his pencil impatiently against his paper, thinking of all the ways to sneak out of the house under his parent's radar.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Dean rolled his eyes exasperatedly as his little brother came _hopping_ into his room. "Trying to do my homework," Dean growled.

Adam cocked his head a little. "Since when do you do your homework?"

"Since Mom and Dad grounded me after _somebody_ told on me!" Dean snapped at his brother.

"Hey! Just because you were out all night and came back all drunk doesn't make it my fault!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just leave me alone and go play with your dolls."

Adam scrunched his face. "They're action figures!"

"Yeah, whatever."

Adam humphed and stormed off, slamming Dean's bedroom door as he left.

"I need to get a lock," Dean said under his breath.

Thirty minutes later and no further on his homework, Dean threw his pencil down, muttering a small curse under his breath and got up to get something to eat.

On his way down the stairs, he noticed the dead silence of the house. He stopped mid-step, trying to hear his mother's cooking or his brother making a racket.

Nothing. Not a single sound.

"Mom?" Dean called out. He descended the rest of the way down, looking into the living room from the stair platform. "Guys? Where is everyone?" Dean walked through the living room when he heard a soft whimpering. Not sure he heard it, Dean stayed still, making sure he was hearing properly. When he heard the whimper again, Dean frowned in worry. "Adam?"

He heard it again coming from the kitchen. Now seriously worried, Dean half ran to the kitchen door. "Adam!?"

As soon as he burst through the door, a sudden force pulled on Dean, flinging him through the kitchen until his body slammed against the wall.

Air knocked out of him, Dean gasped for breath, his vision blurring with sudden tears of pain. As his vision cleared, he saw a form standing in front of him. Dean blinked a few times to clear the tears away. "Dad...? What're you...?"

His father chuckled. "Sorry, sonny. Daddy's not home." His eyes melted into black, the overhead lights flickering.

Dean's eyes widened. _What the hell?! I must be dreaming! I have to be...!_ Suddenly he noticed the pool of blood at his father's feet. The blood was running from somewhere behind the counter. "Dad...?"

His father turned around to the unknown source of blood. He knelt down behind the counter for a moment, a squelching sound reaching Dean's ears. His father stood again, now holding a bloodied knife. His father tisked. "I guess I won't be taking your mother to prom this year."

Dean's eyes widened impossibly further as he comprehended the scene with his father's words. _I AM dreaming! This has to be a dream!_

His father turned and walked to the other side of the kitchen. It was only then that Dean noticed Adam, also pinned to a wall like him. Adam was sobbing, his face red and eyes swollen in grief. His gaze flickered from his mother's body, which he could obviously see, and his approaching father, his terror palatable. When their father stood towering over Adam, he started screaming, his voice high-pitched from fear. "Daddy, please stop! Please!"

Their father just smirked as he brandished the knife in front of Adam. "Who's been a bad boy...?" their father sang.

"Dad, stop it!" Dean shouted, his own tears of anger falling down his face. "Why are you doing this?!"

Without turning, their father chuckled. "Because it's _fun_." And with a flick of his wrist, the knife buried itself into Adam's stomach.

"NO!" Dean screamed. "ADAM!"

Adam looked down at the knife protruding from his stomach, looking genuinely confused at its presence. A moment later, his eyes widened in fear and he screamed. "DEA--!"

Quick as lightning, their father yanked the knife out and thrust it into Adam's throat, stopping him mid-scream. Blood bubbled out of his mouth and dribbled down his chin as Adam fell limply against whatever force was holding him up.

"A-Adam..." Dean choked. He felt as if something was physically blocking air from his lungs as brother's dying plea fell silent in the air.

His father laughed as he pulled the knife out and turned away from the ruined body. Dean stared at his father with wide eyes. "Don't," Dean croaked. "Dad... Please..."

There was a loud bang and the kitchen door _exploded_, splinters fling everywhere. Dean's father cried out in pain and rage, as he turned towards the source. Dean saw small holes in the back of his father's clothes, the flesh underneath audibly sizzling.

A rugged looking stranger, who was standing where the kitchen door once was, cocked his shotgun and fired again, hitting Dean's father full in the chest.

Dean cried out to his father by instinct, his father crying out in inhuman pain. The stranger pulled out a bottle of water and quickly opened it. As Dean's father charged at the stranger, the stranger flung the water at him, the liquid burning him like boiling water. The stranger quickly grabbed Dean's father and flung him into the other room and out of sight. A moment later, Dean and Adam's body fell to the floor.

Dean was on all fours, staring at the floor between his hands. The sickening thud of Adam's body hitting the floor echoed in his head, making him shake. A moment later, he leaned forward and vomited, harsh heaves shooting through his body. After his stomach was thoroughly emptied, he sat on his haunches, staring at the ceiling. He could hear his father screaming and the stranger chanting something. A vague feeling of needing to know what was happening forced Dean to move his numb body. He slowly stood up and stumbled into the living room.

A tarp was laid out on the floor, a large pentagram depicted on it. His father was standing in the middle of it, his eyes pitch black and glaring at the stranger. The stranger was standing outside the pentagram, reading some form of chant from a leather bound book.

Dean just stood there and stared, the evening's events overwhelming his ability to think straight. His father was jerking; his face blurring inhumanly as the stranger continued to chant.

Suddenly his father threw his head back and screamed. Dean shouted out in surprise as a thick black cloud spurted out from his father's mouth, the cloud disappearing into thin air as it exited. His father fell limply to the floor and there was silence.

The stranger frowned. Not seeing that Dean was in the room, he stepped up to Dean's father and examined the body. It was only when a foamy substance started to bubble out of his father's mouth did both Dean and the stranger realize: poison.

The stranger sighed and shook his head sadly.

"W-what..." Dean stuttered.

The stranger jumped at the sudden break of silence. "Ah, goddammit..." he mumbled.

"What j-just hap-ppened?" Dean demanded, his voice still weak.

The stranger looked at Dean with something akin to pity. "Look, kid. I'm sorry. But you have to try and forget what you just saw. Trust me, you'll be better off in the long run."

Dean shook his head. "Nah-ah," Dean growled, his voice returning. "I just watched my entire family get _murdered_. I was held up by an invisible _force field_, meanwhile, my father died getting choked on way-too-solid smoke!" Dean shook his head again, his eyes never leaving the stranger. "I will _never_ forge this. And you know what? You obviously know what's going on here, so don't go anywhere until you _fucking_ tell me what just happened!"

The stranger stared at him for a moment before giving a small, humorless smile. "How old are you, son?"

Dean jerked his head a little, not sure he heard the stranger right. "What?"

"How old are you?"

Dean gave a small frown. "Sixteen."

The stranger shook his head. "Jesus kid, what about school? Your friends?"

Dean shrugged. "I'm failing school as it is. And who says I have any friends?" Dean looked down at his father's body, his demeanor changing. "It wasn't him, was it?"

The stranger slowly shook his head. "No."

Dean looked back at the stranger. "Then what was it?"

The stranger sighed. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

Dean shook his head, his expression turning into one of rage. "_Something_ did this to my family. And I wanna know _what."_

They stood in silence, the stranger obviously thinking through the situation. "What's your name, boy?"

Dean blinked, surprised that the stranger was giving in that easily. "Dean Campbell."

The stranger held out a hand to Dean. When Dean took it, the stranger nodded in recognition. "John Winchester."

Dean slowly nodded. "Okay then, Mr. Winchester..."

"John," the stranger insisted. "Mr. Winchester is way to formal for someone like me." John pointed to the door. "Go out and wait in the truck outside."

"What?" Dean said. "Leave? Now?"

John sighed. "Listen, boy. I have every reason to just leave you here on your on devices. But I know for a fact that you will pursue what did this to your family until you destroy yourself. I'd rather be there to make sure that doesn't happen. In the meantime, you do as I say."

Dean huffed in anger at the man. "I can't just _leave_..."

"You can and you will," John said. "And it's better if you don't pack. It makes things easier to bare if you don't have reminders."

Dean contemplated the man's words, looking around his childhood home. It looked so _different _now. Amazing how one event can change your view of the world. "Can just get something real quickly?"

John sighed and nodded. "But make it quick."

Dean nodded and practically sprinted up the stairs. His mind had not yet caught up to the gravity of everything. That would come later. Now, Dean was trusting to his gut to tell him what to do.

He wanted to say goodbye to his family, but he didn't want to see their ruined bodies again. He didn't want his last memory of them to be what happened tonight. So he ran into his room and grabbed a picture frame. It was taken at the park a few months ago. His parents were in each other's arms while Dean had Adam in a headlock.

Dean just stared at the photo for a moment, time freezing in place. It suddenly occurred to him that this was no longer his life. He'd never tease or bicker with his brother again. He'd never toss a football around with his father again and he'd never get to eat his mother's cooking again. That life was effectively destroyed tonight.

The soft dripping sound as his tears hit the glass frame went unnoticed as Dean sobbed. He held the picture frame in a shaky grasp as he sobbed his heart out. The grief shook his entire body, as if it was trying to break out of his chest.

"Dean?"

Dean turned away from John, who was now staring at him from his bedroom door. He barely knew this guy and he'd be _damned _before he let him be seen like this.

There was a soft thump as John dropped the duffel bag he was holding. He walked up to the boy slowly so not to startle him and placed a hand on the shoulder. Dean didn't seem to mind. In fact, he leaned into the touch. "I'm not gonna lie to you," John said. "This is gonna be hard on you if you come with me or not. It's ultimately your decision, though. If you really believe there's nothing left for you here, then you should come with me. But if you think you have any sort of future staying right here and forgetting what you saw tonight, then I think you should stay."

Dean quickly shook his head. "No." He brought up an arm to wipe his tears away. "There's nothing for me here. I drink a lot and bang dozens of chicks a month." He gave a wet sigh. "Things are never going to be the same for me, but I don't care."

Dean shrugged John's hand off his shoulder and turned towards the older man, giving him look of pure determination. "So we going or what?"

---

Gordon Walker pulled up in front of the house, turning off the ignition and waited.

He had just been passing through this dinky little town, but when he read the local paper, he found signs. Small signs, insignificant, even to most hunters. No electrical storms or anything of that sort, but there were signs. A demon was in this town, probably low level, but any demon of any level deserved a quick trip to hell in Gordon's book. And all those little signs were pointing directly at this house

Making sure he had everything he needed to exorcise this bastard, he grabbed his shotgun and headed towards the house. He started to carefully pick the lock when he heard a scream from inside. Not wasting anytime, he stood back, kicked the door down, and ran inside.

A woman and her son cried out as Gordon burst into their living room. Gordon's eyes swiveled from the mother and son to the television, which was currently playing a horror movie.

_Son of a bitch..._ Gordon silently cursed. He lowered his gun and sighed. "Is there anyone else in this house?"

The woman's eyes widened as she shook her head. "I-if you don't get out n-now, I'm c-calling the p-police!"

"You can call whoever you'd like," Gordon said as he pulled out a bottle of holy water.

"How about you just get the hell outta our house!" the boy said defiantly.

"Sam!" the woman quickly hushed. "I've got this!"

Sam didn't say anything, but had a protective grip on his mother's robe.

_All the signs pointed here... _"I just have to make sure..." Gordon said. He flicked the water bottle at the mother, splashing her a little.

The woman frowned in confusion as the water hit her face. "What're you...?!"

Gordon ignored her as he turned to the boy and flicked the water bottle at him.

Sam hissed in pain as the water hit his face. "Ow! That burned, you freak!"

Gordon's eyes widened. He grabbed the woman's arm and pulled her back from the boy. "Stay behind me, lady!"

"What...!? Let go of me!" The woman tried to pry herself from Gordon's grasp, but he was much to strong.

"Let go of her!" Sam yelled. He charged at Gordon with the intent of getting him to let go.

"No, Sammy! Run!" his mother screamed.

Gordon flung the holy water at Sam, hitting him full in the face. Sam screamed, clutching his face and falling into the ball on the floor. He started to cry as the burning sensation failed to recede. "Get this stuff off me!" Sam cried desperately.

"Sammy!" the woman screamed. "You son of a bitch!" She kicked Gordon in the leg, but he merely pushed her away. She hit her head on the living room table, knocking her unconscious as she hit the floor.

Gordon looked at the sobbing heap on the floor. "Well, you're certainly the most pathetic demon I've ever exorcised." He grabbed the demon by the arm and dragged it to the other room.

Earlier, he had broken in when no one was home. He drew a devil's trap under the rug in the office. Now he flung the demon to approximately where the devil's trap was. "Time to send your ass to hell," he said as he pulled out his journal.

The burning mostly gone, Sam looked up at the man with a tear-stained face. "You're nuts," he mumbled. He pulled himself up and tried to charge the man. About two feet away from Gordon, Sam hit something. Sam looked in the space in front of him in surprise. He put his hands up and felt the invisible barrier keeping him in. "W-what is this!?"

Gordon knelt and flipped the rug back, revealing the devil's trap. Sam just stared at it wide eyed. "What is this...?" Sam almost whimpered.

Gordon stared the exorcism, ignoring Sam. Because as soon as Sam hit the edge of the devil's trap, his eyes turned pitch black.

But after the exorcism was finished, Sam was still standing there, eyes black, trembling, and scared. "Where's my mom?" Sam pleaded. "I wanna see my mom..."

"Shut up!" Gordon yelled. "You don't have a mother, you demon!"

Sam looked at Gordon, genuinely confused. "What are you talking about!?" Sam begged. "Please just let me see my mom!"

_What the hell is this?_ Gordon thought. He stepped forward and grabbed Sam by the chin, any fear of the demon's powers diminishing away by the second. "What are you?"

Sam started to cry again. "Please," he whispered. "Don't hurt me."

Gordon frowned. _Holy water burns it and it can be restrained by a devil's trap. It's obviously a demon, but a demon this weak couldn't stop the exorcism process. Unless... this demon isn't **possessing** the boy. It **is** the boy! A full embodiment of a demon!_ He let go of the boy, walking out of the office.

"W-what're you doing?" Sam asked as Gordon left the room. There was silence until a gunshot rang out through the house. "MOM!" Sam screamed. "No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!"

Gordon walked in a moment later, tucking the gun into the back of his pants. "If you are what I think you are," Gordon said. "I think I may have some use for you."

Sam's eyes widened as Gordon advanced on him. "No, please... leave me alone..." Sam whimpered. Gordon grabbed him by the arm and started to drag him out of the house and back to his car.

Sam pulled against Gordon's hold, scratching and biting him. "Let go of me!" Sam screamed, starting to get angry. "Leggo, you freak!"

Gordon rolled his eyes, getting fed up with the little demon's resistance. He pulled out the holy water and flung what was left of the contents at Sam's face again. Sam cried out in pain, his body falling limp as it tried to curl in on itself. Gordon shoved the demon's body into the car and locked it as he opened the trunk. "Good thing I'm always prepared," Gordon said to himself as he pulled a pair of iron handcuffs from the trunk.

Sliding into the driver's seat, he grabbed on of Sam's resisting arms and handcuffed it to the seat. Sam screamed as the metal burned his arm. "What is this!?" Sam screamed. "Take it off! Take it off! It burns!"

Gordon grabbed the demon by its hair and pulled it's head back. "Let's get a few things straight. You're not human. You're some form of demon. On that basis alone, I should gank you right here and now. But considering your... circumstances, I can't. And you know what? I believe you might be quite useful. But if you don't do everything that I say, I swear you will regret it. You think the holy water and iron cuffs hurt? You should see what I can do with a combination of things." Sam's eyes widened at the implication. "Do I make myself clear?"

Sam nodded, tears falling down his face. Gordon nodded and sat back in his seat, starting the ignition. Sam looked down at the cuffs, which were still burning his arm. Sam grabbed his arms tightly, trying to numb the pain in anyway possible. _What's just happened to me?_

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**Okay, so not that good of a first chap :P  
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**Sooo...? Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**So, i'm continuing ALL my stories. I just don't really wanna leave ANYTHING hanging I guess...  
**

**Today's my birthday, so think of reviews as my present XD  
**

**Enjoy chapter two!**

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**Three Years Later**

Dean woke up to the sound of a gun being cocked. Groaning, Dean flipped over onto his stomach and tried to go back to sleep. John had a habit of waking him up and _unreasonable_ hours, like seven or eight o'clock in the morning. The only exception was after a hunt. But Dean was hoping that John would let him sleep in just a _little_ for once.

"Rise and shine, kiddo!"

Bastard.

Dean rolled back onto his back, his eyes squinting open. He gazed over at John, who was... packing? Dean frowned and stood up, propping himself up on his elbow. "We leaving again?"

John nodded. "Gotta call from a friend. He wants help on a hunt. Since we already finished our hunt..."

Dean nodded his head. "What's he hunting?"

John froze for a moment, but then quickly continued to pack. "Doesn't matter. I'm dropping you off at Bobby's before I go."

"What!?" Dean threw his covers back and sat up. "Why are you -- ?"

When John continued to pack as if he couldn't hear the young man, Dean clenched his jaw in anger. "It's a demon, isn't it?"

John closed his eyes and sighed. "Yes." He turned to face Dean, the young man glaring at him with anger. "And before we go through this again -- "

"Goddammit, John!" Dean yelled. He ran a hand through his hair, organizing his thoughts before he continued his intended rant. "You can't keep _keeping_ me from all these demon hunts! I agreed to learn all this crap so I could help _hunt_ them! What's the point in everything I've learned if you won't even let me hunt the bastards!"

John shook his head. "You're not ready."

"You keep saying that! How do you know I'm not ready if you won't even let me _try!_"

John gave Dean a look that obviously spoke of authority. "You're too emotionally attached still. Unpredictable. I don't know if you'll freeze up, or go on a rage..."

"Right," Dean said with a huff. "Like you weren't emotional and unpredictable after your wife was killed!"

As soon as Dean said it he regretted it. John's face was carefully stoic, but he could see the small tick next to his eye that spoke of his rage. He gave Dean an even look, the room charged with tension. Dean gulped, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

But it never happened. Instead, John gave a forced sigh, sizing Dean up. "You really want to come on this hunt?"

Dean mustered up the most determined look he could give. "I've been training for the last three years for this. I'm ready."

John slowly nodded. "Fine. But you do _exactly_ as I say, got it?"

Dean nodded.

"If I say shoot, you shoot."

Dean nodded.

"If I say run, you run."

Dean hesitated for a moment, but then quickly nodded. "I'll follow everything you say to the letter, I promise."

Clearly not happy, John nodded. "Fine." He pointed to Dean's duffel bag. "Now get packing."

Dean smiled at his victory, quickly getting dressed and packing the few possessions he had. Finally, he can start hunting the sons of bitches responsible for all the pain and death they cause to people like Dean and his family.

_I'm finaly gonna be able to make it up to you_, Dean silently told his family. _You're finally gonna be able to rest._

---

They were almost at their destination, only a couple hours away now.

When Dean asked about the hunt, John didn't say much. Only that his friend needed back up.

"Who exactly _is_ this friend?"

John gave Dean a sideways glance. "Gordon Walker."

Dean raised an eyebrow. Gordon Walker was known as a specialized demon hunter. Pretty damn good one at that, as well. John spoke of him once, but Dean could tell that he didn't like the guy. He didn't really know why he should. A demon hunter was a good person, right?

"His methods can be... archaic," John had said. "He can be a bit too... forceful_._"

_Forceful as opposed to what? Gentle?!_ But Dean let it rest, knowing that if John didn't like the guy, there was no point in defending him. Besides, it's not like Dean's _met_ him yet.

"John?"

The hunter gave a small grunt as a response.

"If you don't like Walker, then why are you helping him?"

John closed his eyes. "Gordon likes me. Doesn't know what I think of his methods."

"Yeah..." Dean gave John a glare. "What exactly do you mean by his 'methods.' Besides that they're 'forceful'."

For a moment, John didn't say anything. Then, "He has a habit of interrogating the demons."

"What's so bad about that?"

John gave Dean a sideways glance before returning his gaze to the road. "When you harm a demon in certain ways, it can cripple the host for life, even if you exorcise the bastard before it's too late."

Dean's eyes widened a little. "Oh." He looked down at his hands, thinking. "Kinda defeats the purpose of the exorcism, doesn't it?"

John gave a humorless smirk. "Basically my line of thinking."

Dean sighed, looking out his window. He suddenly wondered if he'd be able to keep his emotions under control. If Gordon started harming the hosts body, Dean thinks he might loose it.

Either way, it should prove to be an interesting hunt.

---

They pulled up to The Neuter Cat Motel, (Dean pointedly ignored the name of the motel) and parked next to an old red muscle car.

John turned the ignition off and opened the car door. "Looks like Gordon's already here."

Dean got out of the car, staring at the motel room door. _Well, here we go._ Dean followed John to the door and waited as John knocked.

Only a few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a tall black man, wearing the same garb that every hunter Dean's met wears. The man smiled. "John."

John plastered a smile on his face and stepped over to give Gordon a firm pat on the back. "Been a long time, Gordon."

Gordon nodded, his eyes wandering to Dean. "So this is the stray you picked up?"

Dean's face flushed. "I'm not just a stray!"

Gordon chuckled. "Chill out, Dean. I'm only playin' with ya." Gordon stepped back, letting John and Dean come in. "I already bought the room down the row for you guys. I know you like your privacy."

"Thanks," John said as he closed the door behind him.

Gordon went to the mini refrigerator and pulled out a couple beers. "John?"

"Thanks."

"What about me?" Dean said.

"You don't look twenty-one, little man."

Dean pursed his lips together. "Right, like you guys waited until your twenty-one to drink."

Gordon just looked at Dean for a moment before his face broke out into a grin. "You okay with that, John?"

John shrugged, non-caring. "Not like we can argue with him on that point."

Gordon chuckled as he grabbed another beer and tossed it to Dean. "Sure you can hold your liquor, little man?"

_If he calls me 'little man' one more time..._

"So what's up, Walker," John said, getting straight to the point. "Why do you need back-up? I mean you are the 'great demon hunter'..."

Gordon rolled his eyes. "The thing is John, this demon's been eluding me for a while now. Not because I'm inept or don't know what kind of demon it is, but just because I'm only one man. Unfortunately it's taken this long for me to ignore my pride and call for help."

Dean frowned. "What do you mean by 'unfortunately'?"

The older hunter sighed. "This demon's already destroyed at least five different families. It possesses babysitters and has them kill any infants they're taking care of. Pretty much ruins the parents' and the babysitter's lives." Gordon gave Dean and unreadable look. "Now be quite while me and Johnny here talk."

Dean twitched. "Hey, I'm no invalid here. I know what I'm doing and have every right to be in this conversation."

Gordon scoffed. "Oh really?"

Dean gave a small smirk. "We're dealing with a chaos demon. A familial type. Gets its kicks on ruining ruining families, or more specifically, causing chaos within families. The only way you could have tracked it was tracing what kind of babysitters it likes to possess and the age of whom it kills. From what you said, this one probably kills infants to the age of about eighteen months. Am I close?"

Gordon raised an eyebrow. "Kid knows his stuff, John."

John just gave a noncommittal shrug.

"I've been studying demons for the last three years," Dean said. "I better know something."

Gordon gave an approving smile.

"Enough," John said. "Let's get down to business. I'm assuming you've already found all the possible targets for this demon?"

"As a matter of fact, I have. Three possible targets, all around the same area."

Dean smiled. "Perfect. One for each of us to monitor." He knew he was getting overexcited about the hunt, but he couldn't help it. His firt real demon hunt and a first real chance at beating the shit out of one of those sons of bitches.

John gave a small laugh. "Think again, Deans. I'm not letting you monitor on your own."

Dean's jaw dropped. "Like hell I'm not!"

"I'm sure Dean could handle himself," Gordon said. "Give the kid a chance, John."

John shook his head. "You're lucky I let you come at all. But you are _not_ ready to face this on your own."

Dean bit his lip, keeping back his retort. John _knew_ that Dean wanted to face this demon on his own. He also seemed to think that Dean would lose control of himself, given the chance. Dean can't exactly deny it, but he doesn't have to like it either.

Gordon gave a small laugh. "Well, good thing that's not really my plan."

They looked at Gordon, confused. "Then what exactly do you have planned?" John asked.

Gordon reached into his bag and grabbed a map, spreading it out on the table. "See these circles? They're the possible targets. In the middle of them, there's a small patch of woods. Am I right in assuming you still use those tarps with the devil's traps on them?"

John nodded slowly, feeling doubtful about this 'plan.'

"We'll lure the demon to these woods and trap it there. Less civilian spectators and casualties."

"What exactly do you plan on doing?" John said carefully.

Gordon smiled. "Just exorcise it, John. This is a low level demon, but dangerous nonetheless. It won't have any valuable intel, but we need to burn the bastard."

John nodded. "Alright, sounds good to me."

"One problem though," Dean said.

Gordon raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh?"

"What are you gonna use to lure the demon away from its target? I can't really think of anything that would distract a demon from what it does by instinct."

Gordon's smile turned a little devious. "I'm glad you asked."

---

Gordon led Dean and John out to his car. "I found it a few year ago. By pure chance. I couldn't believe it when I saw it. But once I did, I knew what I had to do."

John and Dean exchanged a glance, both of them feeling uneasy.

Gordon unlocked the trunk of his car and flipped it open. "This is our bait."

John looked into the trunk, his eyes widening. "Gordon, what the hell is this!?"

Dean peaked over John's shoulder, his jaw dropping at the sight.

The trunk was lined with devil's traps, one on each surface. And in the middle of it, was a boy. He was curled up in a small ball, a blindfold and gag covering his face. Iron manacles were secured around the boy's neck, wrists, and ankles, the metal appearing to burn his skin. Then Dean realized, it wasn't a boy. It was a demon.

"Calm down, John," Gordon said. "It's not what you think."

"Well then _explain_ this to me! Why does it look like you've kidnapped a possessed boy!?"

"He's not possessed," Gordon said calmly. "This boy _is_ a demon."

John froze. After a long moment of silence, John swallowed and said, "What?"

"This isn't like any demon I've encountered. Holy water, salt, devil's traps... they work on the kid. But you can't exorcise him because he _is_ the demon. I know it's not just a powerful demon that latched to the boy because holy water and devil's traps wouldn't work on him then." Gordon looked down at the apparently unconscious boy. "When I realized this, I realized I had to keep it under control. Otherwise, I can't imagine what damage this boy could do unchecked."

John looked at the boy, confused. "Why don't you just kill it then?"

Gordon raised an eyebrow. "Since when can we kill demons?"

"Oh, right..."

"I just gotta keep this thing tamed." Gordon slammed the trunk shut. "At this point, that's all I can do."

"And how exactly will this lure the chaos demon?" Dean asked.

"I don't know why, but demon's are attracted to this thing like moths to a flame. Especially when it's in pain. I guess it's like unconscious sympathy or something like that. Who knew the bastards had anything of the sort?" Gordon said with a smile.

They headed back into the motel room to get ready for the hunt. Before Dean walked into the room, he turned around to look at the trunk, picturing the demon he just saw. Something was bothering him. He didn't know what, but he felt an uneasy feeling in his gut, like there was something _wrong_ about this whole thing.

Dean shook his head. _What the hell's wrong with me? We're using a demon to exorcise another. What could possibly be wrong with that?_

* * *

**okay, kinda a lame chap, but I promise MUCH Limp!Sam next chapter. Possibly Limp!Dean if I can muster it up :)**

**Dean has suffered his own traumas in the last few years, but I won't be getting into those until later i guess... but they will be there XD  
**

**Sooo...? Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**So... not much happens this chapter, but it gives a little insight to the future and past ;)  
**

**Enjoy chapter three!**

* * *

Everything was laid out perfectly. Assuming what Gordon said about demons being attracted the one in his trunk was true, virtually nothing could go wrong.

_Knock on wood_? Dean thought grimly as they drove to their destination. They had to set everything up as quickly as possible. They had no idea when the demon would strike, so the sooner they set up this trap, the better they would all feel.

When they reached their destination, Gordon got out of his car, grabbing a coupe bottles of holy water and some rope. John grabbed the tarps with the devil's traps and his shotgun.

"I already found the perfect place to set up," Gordon said.

It was a two minute walk to the location Gordon chose. Pointing to a large tree he said, "I'll be able to set up the bait at the base of that tree. Now I just need you to set up the rest."

John nodded, walking to the tree and placing the tarps down. Dean could tell that John was not happy about this plan. His slightly pinched face and mechanical movements told volumes about John's mood, but Gordon didn't seem to noticed.

Dean didn't really know what John's problem was. Sure, Dean had a weird feeling in his stomach and the whole situation made him extremely uncomfortable, but logically speaking there was nothing wrong with this plan. Use a demon to get rid of a demon. What's so wrong about that?

After they covered the tarps with dirt and leaves, Gordon reached up the tree trunk, placing one of the bottles of holy water between two branches and tying it in place with the rope.

"Now for the bait," Gordon said.

"Need help?" John asked.

"No, I got it."

Dean sighed as Gordon disappeared behind the trees. "John?"

"Yeah?" the grizzled hunter responded.

"Mind explaining something for me?"

John gave Dean a serious look. "Shoot."

"You said to go with your gut instinct, right?"

John nodded. "Always."

"Okay... so what if your gun instinct defies _all_ logic. Like it... it just doesn't make any sense."

John looked in the direction Gordon disappeared into. "You either act or you wait. See what the cards are before putting in your bet."

Dean rolled his eyes at the somewhat cheesy metaphor. "Great." Dean walked around, kicking a few stray stones.

John sighed. "We'll see where Gordon goes with this. Make our decision later."

Dean blinked. Apparently John had the same line of thinking in mind.

A few minutes later Gordon was back, leading a stumbling, teen-looking demon with him.

Dean's chest clenched as he looked at the demon, though he didn't know why. It was demon, right?

But the _sight _of it... it made Dean very glad it was a demon and not a real boy. Now that it was out of the trunk, Dean could _really_ see it now.

It's blindfold and gag were gone, along with the iron manacles around his ankles, leaving the manacles around his wrists and neck, the iron still burning the demon. Its body was skeletal, reminding Dean of those starving African kids they had on TV sometimes. _Gordon probably doesn't bother to feed it_, Dean thought. Its clothes were thin and grayish, as if they haven't been cleaned or changed in years. _Which was probably the case_.

But it was its face that got to Dean. If it had been human, it would have been a handsome kid. Roughly fourteen to sixteen years old, long chocolate-colored locks framing his face. But malnutrition means that it has a sickly pale pallor and translucent-like skin. His face way to skinny for someone of his age and height and his expression was that of someone completely dead on the inside. But his eyes... it reminded Dean of kids who were victims of some supernatural tragedy. Pain and absolute fear expressed perfectly through large, green-blue colored eyes.

Dean had to keep reminding himself that it was a demon.

Gordon shoved the demon to the base of the tree, forcing it to sit down in the middle of a small devil's trap. The demon shook as Gordon stood over him, obviously in full authority.

"Go get some cover," Gordon said. "I'll be done in a sec."

On cue, John and Dean took cover behind some brush some thirty yards away. Dean had his shotgun on hand, but his eyes were still glued on what Gordon was doing.

Gordon reached up and took the lid off the bottle of holy water. Apparently there was some sort of stopper because only small drops came out of the canister at a very slow pace.

The little demon twitched and moaned as the holy water dripped on him, his moans holding that deep, inhuman quality that reminded Dean once again that this was in fact a demon. It tried to move out of the way of the dripping holy water but the devil's trap was too small. So the demon just stayed in a small shaking ball, trying to block out the slow agonizing pain the holy water was causing.

Gordon took cover between Dean and John, a smirk on his face. "Now all we gotta do is wait."

"You sure this is gonna work?" John said skeptically.

"I've already done this plenty of times. Trust me, it'll work."

Dean looked back at the demon, swallowing hard as he stared at the small body twitching and crying in pain. "I just hope it works fast," he whispered to himself.

---

Nearly four hours and another canister of holy water later, the demon finally came. It came into view from the shadows, frowning at the damp, whimpering form that was shaking at the base of the tree.

The three hunters got ready, carefully picking up their equipment. Gordon looked at John and Dean, give them a small nod.

The little demon looked up at the approaching form, its black eyes shining with tears. "Pl-leeeaase..." it whimpered.

The demon frowned as he knelt before the shaking mass. "What on earth did this to you?"

The black receded from the little demon's eyes as he looked directly where the hunters were hiding. "H-hurrry..."

The demon's eyes widening, he tried to jump back, but found himself trapped. "What?!" He kicked the dirt out from under him, revealing one of the devil's traps.

"Aww..." Gordon said, standing from his hiding place, shotgun leaning back on his shoulder. "Now ain't that a bitch."

The demon snarled at Gordon. "A hunter. I should have known. What else could go as low as to do this?"

Dean and John looked at each other before standing, John reciting the exorcism as Dean kept his shotgun aimed at the demon.

As soon as Dean saw the demon, he was struck by the similarity of this demon and the one that possessed his father. The same smile, posture... even the black eyes made Dean fall back to that day, clenching his insides. _Stay cool, Dean... We're here to send this bastards ass to hell... Don't screw it up by getting emotional!_

"Funny," Gordon said. "You say that as though we're just another caste of _creatures_."

The demon rolled its eyes. "Humans and their superiority complex." It looked down at Gordon's bait with disgust. "You really think you're so different than us? At least its our instinct to cause pain and terror. What's your excuse?"

"We don't murder children!" Dean shouted.

"Dean!" John yelled mid-exorcism. "Stay focused."

"Yeah, Dean," the demon smiled. "Stay focused. Wouldn't want to screw up the hunt, now would ya?"

John read the exorcism as quickly as he could, trying to finish it before Dean did something really stupid. _I knew it was a mistake to bring him along..._

"If you don't shut up, I'm gonna shoot your mouth off!" Dean yelled, completely unaware that he was losing his control.

The demon pointed to his chest. "You mean me? Or the guy I'm riding?"

Dean paused at this, only then remembering that this guy was possessed.

"_Amen_," John shouted.

The demon threw his head back and fled its body, the stream of thick smoke disappearing as it was transported into hell. The body fell limply, landing on the ground in an unceremonious heap.

There was a moment of silence, only broken by the muffled whimpers of Gordon's demon.

Dean took in a deep breath. _Well that was rather anti-climatic. _He pointedly ignored his racing heart that spoke otherwise.

John stepped up to the body, placing two fingers on the man's neck. "He's alive. But he's weak; we shouldn't leave him here."

Gordon nodded "Alright then. Let's pack up and get outta here. I'll drop the vic. off at the hospital and meet ya back at the motel." With this said, Gordon broke the devil's trap holding his demon captive and grabbed the iron chains. Grabbing the canister from above, he hauled the demon off, ignoring the cries and whimpers of pain emitting from the demon.

As soon as Gordon and the demon were out of sight, Dean went next to John, helping him pick up the tarps. "Sorry," he murmured.

John shrugged. "All worked out in the end."

"But I nearly shot the bastard!" Dean said, scolding himself. "I thought I could keep myself under control, but seeing that demon there, like my dad... I don't know... its like I either wanted to shoot him or _myself_."

John nodded. "I never said this would be easy, Deans. But you do learn to live with it."

Dean nodded "Yeah, I know... uhh, John?"

"Yeah?"

"So, uh... what do you think about the demon?"

John looked in the direction Gordon disappearred into before going back to folding up the tarps. "I don't know. Something's bother me, though it may be nothing. I want to talk to the demon. _Away_ from Gordon."

Dean scoffed. "And how to you propose we do that? Gordon doesn't seem to be the kinda guy to let us do that?"

John smirked as the threw the last of the tarps over his shoulder. "This is where being a hunter is useful."

---

Gordon tossed a beer to Dean and John each. "Here's to another black-eyed bitch in hell."

"Cheers," John said as he twisted the beer cap off.

Gordon took a long swig of his beer, emptying half of it in one go. He let out a satisfied sigh. "You know, as much as I like working alone, there's something to be said about a victory with fellow hunters."

Dean nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, about that," John said slowly. "Remind me, why did you need back up? Seems like you coulda preformed the whole thing, trap and all just fine by yourself."

Gordon shook his head. "Nah ah. I never go into a hunt using that demon as bait by myself. That just makes things a little too complicated for me. I have back up just in case something goes wrong."

"Still," John said, "Seems like you got the demon pretty much under control."

"Or that's just what it wants me to think." Gordon took another sip of his beer. "You know as well as I that demon's are tricky bastards. Allways gotta be extra careful with demons, especially with this one. This one has the most potential as far as how much damage it could cause. Especially since it can't be killed or exorcised. Which is why I need to make sure it stays tame."

Dean nodded. "Sounds reasonable." He took a long drag from his bottle. It's true. There was nothing unreasonable about Gordon's explanation. So why the hell was he so uncomfortable with the situation?

"So you just keep it in your trunk?"

Gordon scoffed. "Hell no. Only when I got company. Usually it's posing as a recently adopted son. Obviously his last home was extremely neglectful."

"Obviously," John said thickly.

"I even got papers." Gordon stuck a hand into his duffel, pulling out a folder and handing it to John.

John opened the folder, his eyes quickly skimming the pages. "'Sam Walker?'"

Gordon shrugged. "It was call itself 'Sam' when I found it. Not that I call it by name most the time..."

John closed the folder, the feeling in his gut getting stronger. He looked at his watch. "Well, we should probably be turning in." John stood, draining his beer. Placing the bottle on the table, he nodded to Gordon. "Thanks for the beer."

"Thanks," Dean said as he rose to follow John.

Gordon smiled. "No prob. See ya guys later."

When they exited Gordon's room and headed towards their own, they waited until they were a good distance away to start talking.

"So you have a plan?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," John said. "Wait a good while and break into that trunk. I wanna talk to the demon before I make any passing judgments."

* * *

**blah ha ha.... badly written... oh well, it's somehting :P**

**I meant to write more but then i decided... this is a good place to end it. ;) We find out more about Sam next chap!  
**

**Sooo...? Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**I kinda liked this chapter.... hope you agree XD  
**

**Enjoy chapter four!**

* * *

Later that night, Dean and John snuck out to Gordon's car, carefully picking the lock to his trunk. When they finally got it open, the demon shivered and gave a small whimper. Being as quiet as possible, John and Dean pulled the demon out of the trunk and back to their room. John placed the demon the the prepared devil's trap and removed the gag and blindfold that stifled it while Dean closed the door and re-salted the floor.

The demon looked up at the hunters fearfully as he slowly scooted himself back, his iron manacles shifting and burning him even worse. He scooted back until he hit the furthest boundary of the trap, where he curled into a ball, keeping a... fearful?... eye on the two hunters. Dean held a shotgun at the ready as John took out a bottle of holy water; the demon whimpered pitifully at the sight of the clear bottle. Frowning, John knelt next to the devil's trap, looking at the demon with a stern glare. "Can you speak?" John asked gruffly.

The demon pushed himself hard against the opposite wall of the devil's trap, his body trembling hard. He gave an exaggerated nod.

"Good," John said. "I'm gonna ask you a few questions. I want you to answer honestly and immediately. Not beating-around-the-bush crap, you hear me?"

The demon gave another nod, his eyes flickering to the holy water in John's hands.

"Alright," John said. "First off, what you do you call yourself?"

The demon looked hesitant and confused at the question. But he licked his lips and took in a shuddered breath. "D... D-don' h-h-have one..." he whispered with a scratchy voice.

John frowned. "What did you call yourself before you met Gordon?"

The demon flinched at Gordon's name, his trembling starting to increase. "S-Sa-am..." he whispered quietly, as if the name were almost taboo.

John slowly nodded. "Alright, Sam." John stood straight, stretching his back. "We know Gordon is telling the truth as far as _what_ you are. You're obviously a demon who can't be exorcised because you're not possessing anyone, you just _are_ a demon, correct?"

Sam quickly nodded his head in agreement.

John ran a hand over his face. "Alright. So answer this for me. Have you ever hurt anyone?"

A moment of stillness filled the air. Dean stiffened at the question, not helping but to think of _himself_ with the question. He looked at the frail looking demon in the devil's trap and felt more confused than ever. It was a demon, so why didn't Dean automatically hate it?

Sam's eyes widened at the question, his eyes filling with tears as he gave a shaky nod.

"Have you ever killed anybody?" John asked.

Sam gave a small sob as he nodded again, the tears starting to fall down his face. "B-b-bec-cause I-I'm a d-d-dem-m-mon..." he mumbled.

John frowned at this. "Sam, _how_ did you kill those people?"

Sam curled in on himself, sobs wracking his bone-thin body. "I-I-I'm a... d-d-dem-mon..." he mumbled pitifully. "B-b-bec-c-cause I-I'm a d-dem-monnn..."

John sighed, causing Sam to flinch.

"I-I-I s-s-sw-wear!Th-th-that's h-h-how...!" Sam whimpered desperately. "Pl-l-lea-ease d-don' h-hurt m-m-me..."

John's eyes widened a little, but he didn't say anything. He looked over at Dean, jerking his head backwards a little. Dean nodded as he lowered his shotgun and walked to the back of the room with the seasoned hunter. "John?" Dean said quietly.

John ran his hand over his face again and sighed. "He's certainly not acting like a demon. Not like any demon _I _know."

"I could be an act," Dean suggested.

"_You_ don't even believe that," John said quietly. He looked back at the demon in the devil's trap. "This has got to be the most upside down case I've ever encountered.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "'Case'?"

John ignored Dean's inquiry. "What do you think?"

Dean looked back at the demon, who was staring at them fearfully. Dean felt his gut twist at the broken looking thing. "I don't know..." Dean said slowly. "It doesn't make any sense. I keep thinking, he's a demon. I should hate him. But..." Dean looked at the demon... Sam, again. "_God_... what if he's just a _kid?_"

John visibly swallowed. "The problem is, how can we tell?"

Dean bit his lip. He had an idea, but was afraid of what John's reaction might be. "I wanna try something," Dean said carefully. "You'll have my back, right?"

John's eyes narrowed. "What are you going to do?"

Dean let out a shaky sigh. "Do you trust me?"

"Not really, no."

Dean let out a humorless laugh. "I'm gonna see just how evil Sam is."

John didn't say anything. After a moment, he nodded. "Just be careful."

Dean turned fully towards the devil's trap and blew out a breath. "Okay..."

Sam looked up with wide, red-rimmed eyes as Dean walked towards him. He scrambled backwards, pushing himself as far away from the approaching man as possible. "P-p-pl-lease..."

As Dean knelt down, he was secretly hoping that Sam was actually evil. Because if it wasn't... he didn't even want to think about it. He just hoped that Sam would attack him or something of the like. Leaning forward, Dean slowly scratched the devil's trap, breaking its binding power.

Sam fell backwards as the devil's trap became worthless, falling on his back with a small grunt. His eyes flashed black for a moment, showing his surprise, before returning to normal.

"Dean...?" John inquired.

"Just cover my back," Dean said, never taking his eyes off Sam.

As Dean slowly approached Sam, Sam gasped and crawled backwards as fast as his iron manacles would allow.

Dean put his hands up. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Sam?"

Sam frowned, his breathing quickening as he panicked. "I-I..."

Suddenly, the door burst open. John spun around the held his shotgun at the ready when Gordon walked in.

"Somehow, I'm not really surprised," Gordon said grimly.

"Gordon," John said, lowering his shotgun. "What are you -- ?"

"You sure you're the one who should be asking the questions?" Gordon said. "You know, I would have let you questioned the thing if you just asked me."

The iron manacles were jingling loudly as Sam started to shake uncontrollably. "N-n-n-nooo..." he whimpered.

When Gordon saw Sam, his eyes widened and he frantically grabbed his bottle of holy water. "Why the hell isn't he in a devil's trap?! Are you insane?!"

"Gordon, wait!" John yelled.

Gordon ignored the other hunter as he shoved Dean out of his way and grabbed Sam by the arm, pulling him up into a standing position. Sam gave a strangled cry as Gordon grabbed and yanked on the iron manacles. "You better not be causing any trouble, you demonic sonovabitch..."

Sam frantically shook his head, tears streaming down his face.

"Good." Gordon picked up the the discarded gag and blindfold and practically dragged Sam through the motel room and out the door with him. "You can resume this _interrogation_ at a more reasonable time," Gordon said with a sideways smiles. "'Night fellas." And with this, he left.

Dean just stood there, half stunned. It took a moment for what just happened to finally dawn on him. "John?"

John looked at Dean with a stony expression, though Dean could he was in some serious thought. "Yeah?"

"What do we do now?"

John looked toward the door. "We talk to Sam tomorrow. With Gordon."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "That's your plan?!"

"It's not a plan, Dean," John said. "It's what we're gonna do. We can make a plan after that. Now, we sleep."

They re-salted the doorway and turned in for the night. Dean lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Sam. He went over all the facts and what he knew about the little demon boy in his head, trying to make sense of everything.

_Need to stop calling him 'little' for one,_ Dean thought to himself. _Kid's nearly as tall as me..._ Maybe it was just the fact that he was literally skin and bones, or the fact that he was almost child-like, but the term 'little' seemed to fit Sam, despite his height.

Dean rolled on his side, trying to fall asleep, but no matter what, the whimpering demon entered his mind's eye, preventing sleep from coming to him.

From the lack of snoring, Dean assumed John never fell asleep either.

---

Gordon tossed Sam into the devil's trap, ignoring the panicked whimpers emitting from the demon. "G-G-G-Gordon..." Sam squeaked out.

"Shut up!" Gordon hissed. "You and your stupid demon tricks. You're trying to trick John and Dean, aren't you? Try to convince them you're some innocent, little, helpless thing!"

Sam lowered his head and nodded. "M'sorry....." he whimpered.

Gordon sneered. "You obviously haven't learned your lesson yet. At this point, I doubt you ever will. But I'll keep trying." Gordon disappeared into the bathroom for a moment before coming back out. "Besides... I have to admit, it's a little fun." Quickly grabbing Sam's arm, Gordon broke the devil's trap and dragged Sam into the bathroom.

"NO!" Sam screamed. "Pl-leease! G-Gordon, I-I pr-romise... Gord-don, PLEASE!!" Sam begged.

Getting annoyed at the demon and worried that someone might hear, Gordon quickly stuffed the ball gag in Sam's mouth, fastening it tightly around his head. "You've _earned_ this," Gordon growled as he tossed the emaciated demon into the shower.

Fear taking over, Sam tried to crawl out of the shower, but the devil's trap on the ceiling prevented him from doing so. He looked at Gordon with pleading eyes, whimpering in fear, his body shaking in anticipation.

Gordon laughed. "You're a priceless one, demon, you know that?" With this said, he turned on the shower and left the bathroom.

Sam screamed against his gag as the holy water shot down on him like a thousand burning needles. He bucked and writhed, his body trying to break out of the devil's traps confinements, but no matter how hard he tried, he was trapped under the spray.

Sam continued to scream as the fiery liquid pounded on him, until finally his voice left him and only a few choked gasps escaped from the confines of the gag. His black eyes rolled back as his body continued to jerk under the spray. The sheer pain that covered his whole body never ebbed, never numbed for Sam. This was another reason, Gordon had said, that Sam was a demon. If he were human, he would have eventually passed out from the pain, or his mind would have blocked the pain for sake of survival. As a demon, Sam didn't have that luxury.

And Sam remained under the spray of holy water for the remainder of the night.

---

In the morning, with barely any sleep having been gained, Dean sat impatiently, waiting for John to finish his shower. He knew the only reason John had chosen to take a shower _that morning_ was so they didn't wake Gordon up before he was up naturally.

Most hunters woke up early, but four-thirty was pushing it.

They agreed that they'd wait until at least six before knocking on Gordon's door and requesting to continue their 'interrogation.' In the meantime, John forced Dean to take a shower before taking one himself.

It was now five fifty and Dean couldn't wait any longer. "Okay, let's go."

"Dean..." John warned.

"Right, because you're not as anxious and worried as I am," Dean said. "I'm not a marine, John, I don't hide things or keep a tough exterior. I'm anxious, so I'm going to _act_ anxious. 'Kay?!"

"And obviously impatient," John said deliberately slowly. "You've waited this long, you can wait another..." He looked at his watch. "... eight minutes."

Dean took a deep breath and sat down next to John. "Yeah, sure." Dean sighed. "It's just..."

John gave Dean a sideways glance. "Yes?"

"We know he's a demon..." Dean said slowly. "But what if he's never hurt anyone?"

John blinked at this. This was honestly not the conclusion he though Dean would come to, considering his history. Though he was alwasy more sensitive to these kinds of issues. "The demon said..."

"I know what he said," Dean said carefully. "But I think he's lying."

John agreed with Dean, but wanted to know what was going through the young man's head. "Why do you think that?"

Dean swallowed hard. "If he's kid, who never knew what he was, then suddenly a man comes into your house, takes you away, and treats you like that... I think that sort of life would mess with your head. If I'm right... then that's exactly what Gordon's doing... Messing with his head."

John nodded slowly. "But how do you want to prove this."

"I'm willing to bet," Dean said slowly, "that if there was no devil's trap, no holy water, no iron, and I attacked him, he wouldn't hurt me. Not intentionally." He closed his eyes and sighed. "But I really hope I'm wrong."

John frowned at this. "Why?"

"Because if I'm right..." Dean looked at John worriedly. "... then what do we do then?"

* * *

**John's not really the hardcore hunter he is in the show, isn't he? Makes up for all the fics I make him a bastard in XDD  
**

**Sooo...? Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**This is an interesting chapter... didn't turn out the way i expected it to... hope you like :)  
**

**Enjoy chapter five!**

* * *

John knocked on Gordon's motel door, Dean standing closely behind him. "I hope we're not making a huge mistake."

"We need to do it," John responded quietly. "Whether it's a mistake or not."

The door opened, revealing the tall black man. He was drying his hands as he smiled. "Ready to finish your interrogation?"

"Yes, please," John said.

Gordon stepped back, allowing the two hunters to step inside. Dean froze when he saw Sam in the devil's trap. He was curled up in a small, shivering ball, as usual, but now he was also soaking wet. And while usually Sam kept his eyes on the hunters in the room, now his eyes were staring straight down, glassy and unfocused.

"Sorry about last night," John said insincerely.

Gordon shrugged. "It's no problem. You're not the first to want to interrogate the bastard." He gave John a serious look. "You know, you could have just asked. You didn't have to try and sneak it out from under me at night."

John gave a strained smile. "I'll remember that next time."

"Why is soaking wet?" Dean asked, never taking his eyes off the demon.

"Just gave him a good douse of holy water," Gordon said. "Make sure he behaves."

Dean nodded, not sure on how he should react. "Right... Um, Gordon?"

"Yeah, Dean."

"We wanna try something with S-- the demon. You don't mind if we -- "

"Oh no, go ahead," Gordon said. "I'm sure this bastard deserves whatever's coming to him."

Dean gave another uncertain nod. "Alrighty then..."

"Hey, Gordon," John said. "I may speak to you outside for a moment."

Gordon frowned at this. "John, as much as you may trust the kid, I don't really trust the demon alone with him."

"I'm not a kid!" Dean said.

"Don't worry," John said. "We'll be right outside the door. I just want to talk to you about a few things." John grabbed Gordon's arm and said something quietly into his ear.

"Alright," Gordon said. He looked at Dean. "You be careful with that demon."

"Don't worry, I will," Dean said with a smile. John was the best conman Dean knew. The plan was for John to try and get as much information about Sam as possible out of Gordon while Dean carried out his little test.

After the two hunters left, Dean turned back to Sam, who remained unchanged. "For your sake," Dean said under his breath, "I hope you're evil." With this said, he leaned down and broke the devil's trap.

Sam fell limply on his side, his arms and legs slowly coming back up to curl into a ball. His blank stare remained unchanged.

Dean swallowed hard. _Okay, just don't think about it. Just take off those iron manacles, then you can test him..._ Taking out his pick, Dean knelt next to Sam and started to pick the locks on the manacles.

Sam whimpered as Dean knelt in front of him, his fear increasing tenfold. "Pl-leeeeeaase...." Sam barely managed to whimper.

_Please let him be evil, please let him be evil..._ When Dean finished, he took the manacles off Sam's wrists and ankles and placed them to the side. Sam's eyes bled black as the manacles were removed. He looked a little confused as Dean placed the manacles to the side. He looked down at his jagged, red wrists where the manacles were. He lightly ran a finger over them in awe, barely able to remember a time when the manacles were gone.

Dean swallowed again. Taking out an iron knife, he stood and said, "There's no devil's trap. You're not restrained, even by iron. You can do whatever you want now." Dean wasn't stupid. If Sam was, in fact, evil, John had placed devil's traps on the outside of every opening in the motel room. Dean also had a pistol with consecrated iron rounds hidden under his shirt.

Sam looked at Dean confused. He didn't understand what kind of game Dean had in mind, but he hoped it was over with quickly.

When Sam looked up at him with those black eyes, Dean's possessed father flashed before his eyes, a familiar fire igniting in his chest. "Your kind kills whole families for pleasure..." Dean said dangerously, brandishing the knife in front of him. Letting the anger and hate consume him, Dean grabbed Sam by the neck, pressing the iron blade to his cheek. "What do you have to say to that?"

"I-I'mmm so-orreeee..." Sam sobbed, his black eyes wide and fearful. "'Mmm s-sorreee..."

Dean's anger faltered. As a demon, Sam should just be able to throw Dean back and away from him. So why wasn't he?

"Defend yourself goddammit!" Dean yelled in his face, refusing to believe that the demon wasn't evil. Sure he had his doubts before, but that was just his compassion speaking. He hadn't been thinking straight before. Of _course_ Sam was evil. He was a demon, therefore was evil. It _had _to be evil. There was just no way...

_The sickening thud of Adam's body hitting the floor echoed in his head..._

Dean clenched his jaw. "What your kind does..." Dean barely breathed out, his composure crumbling, "What they do..."

"I-I'mmmm s-sor-rreee..." Sam whimpered, tears falling down his face. "P-pleeeeeease..."

_Please fight back,_ Dean silently begged. _Please fight back... be evil, please...! _

When nothing happened, Dean let go of Sam, the demon falling to the floor in a heap. Sam was shaking badly. He knew what was to come. It was only a matter of time before Dean had his fun with him, then John would follow shortly after. And after they both left, Gordon would have one more 'session' with him before moving on. It was inevitable. It was only a matter of time.

"Fight back," Dean growled, his body shaking with pure emotion. "Fight back, you fucking demon!" Dean screamed.

On the other side of the door, John and Gordon looked towards the motel in surprise. "The hell!?" Gordon exclaimed. He pulled out a bottle of holy water and ran back to his motel room.

"Shit," John cursed under his breath as he followed. _Probably wasn't the brightest idea to have _Dean_ provoke the demon._

Gordon burst into the motel room. He froze and his eyes widened when he saw the broken devil's trap and the iron manacles tossed to the side. "What the hell are you doing!?"

Dean didn't respond, or even look at Gordon. He just continued to scream. "I said fight...! BACK!"

Dean was about to lung at the demon with the iron knife when John wrapped his arms around Dean. "Dean! _Dean!"_

"Let go of me!" Dean screamed. "He needs to fight back! Why won't he fight back!?"

"Why were you fighting him in the first place!?" John yelled back, trying to get the young man to calm down.

Dean's struggling reduced a little. "H-he's a d-demon..."

"Why didn't he fight back?" John said calmly, hoping to knock some sense into Dean.

Dean froze. After a moment's pause, Dean's eyes widened. "Oh god... He's just a kid..." Dean breathed.

John let go of Dean, keeping a hand on the young man's shoulders. "Deans?"

"He didn't fight back," Dean reiterated, avoiding eye contact with the older hunter. "That means..."

"You're lucky to be _alive_, you stupid bastard," Gordon growled.

Dean and John both looked over at Gordon, who had the iron manacles back on a shaking Sam, his bottle of holy water emptied. He shook the chains connected to the manacles. "Why did you take these off!? Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

"Gordon..." John started.

"No!" Gordon yelled. He was livid, unable to grasp the possible reason for the barely-adult young man to free the demon. "If this demon gets free, then god knows what damage he'll do before we're able to capture him again. Why would you even risk that!?"

"Gordon!" John yelled. "How did you find him?"

Gordon blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

"How did you find Sam in the first place?"

"You mean the demon?" Gordon shook the chains again, electing a whimper from Sam. "There were signs. Very small ones. Small disturbances over a long period of time."

"Any deaths? Mutilations?"

"No. I got to him before he could realize what he could do."

John frowned. "Has Sam... hurt anyone?"

Gordon nodded. "At first, I didn't keep as tight reigns as i do now. He killed thirteen people, including his supposed 'mother', before I was finally able to keep him under control."

John and Dean looked down at the quivering mass at Gordon's feet. And they both silently agreed. Something wasn't right here. "_How_ did he kill those people?"

Gordon gave an incredulous laugh. "Why does it matter? All that matters is that I won't let him hurt anyone else. Which means that Chachi here has to keep himself from doing stupid things like this!"

Dean swallowed hard as he stared at Sam. He agreed that he was acting stupid earlier, but he wasn't thinking about the fact that he let Sam free.

John's eyes narrowed. "Gordon..."

Gordon scoffed. "You know what? I think we should go our separate ways for now." He pointed at the door.

Slowly nodding, John walked towards the door, dragged Dean behind him.

"I'll see ya around, John," Gordon said.

John gave a short nod as he exited the motel with Dean.

When the two hunters disappeared out of the motel room, Gordon looked down at Sam with a scowl. "Been messing with their heads, haven't you?"

Tears fell down his face as Sam nodded. "Mm s-sor-reee..."

Gordon snarled as he yanked upward on the iron manacles. Sam screamed as the burning metal cut into his wrists.

"You're sorry?!" Gordon laughed. "I'll show you sorry." Yanking harshly on the chains, Sam fell on the ground hard with a yelp. Gordon literally dragged him across the room, chaining him to one of the bed's legs. Standing on the bed, Gordon quickly drew a simple version of the devil's trap on the ceiling. It was weaker, but would suffice for now.

Kneeling in front of Sam, Gordon snarled, "Ready for another session?"

---

"We're not just gonna leave Sam with that sadistic bastard, are we?!" Dean exclaimed.

"Funny," John said. "I didn't think you'd have a problem with that a few minutes ago."

Dean swallowed hard, a ball of guilt weighing heavily in his stomach. "I'm _sorry_," Dean said desperately. "I lost control. I-I just... I saw his _eyes_ and all I could think about was my father and... I wasn't thinking straight."

John scoffed. "That much was obvious."

Dean shook his head, eyes glued to the floor. "None of this makes sense."

"You're telling me," John said. "An innocent demon..."

Dean sighed. "So what're we gonna do now?"

"Sam isn't evil," John said. "He's being abused for nothing. We can't let it continue."

"I _know_," Dean said, a little annoyed. "So what're we gonna do?"

John turned to face Dean. "We're gonna save Sam."

* * *

**oh dear... Dean's got his share of issues... and Sam isn't looking too good either. :P  
**

**Sooo...? Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**Again, this chapter was an interesting one... more... _anticlimactic_ than I had intended :/ hope you still like it :P  
**

**Enjoy chapter six!**

* * *

"That's the plan?!" Dean said incredulously, pausing in cleaning his gun.

"You have a better one?"

"No, but you're the aged and more experienced hunter. _You_ should be able to think of something better! 'Cause you know what? I really don't have a death wish!"

"Look, Deans, Gordon is cunning. He can see any trap or set-up a mile away. So _this _is the plan."

"It's not a plan," Dean mumbled. "It's barely better than _let's go point our guns and randomly shoot_."

"This is the best we can do," John said. "There's no reasoning with the bastard so we're just gonna have to use brute force."

Dean paused in his cleaning again. "Are you gonna kill him?"

John ignored the question. "You heard the plan, now let's just get ready."

Dean swallowed, apprehension gnawing at his stomach. _This is not going to work..._

---

John knocked the door to Gordon's room. "Gordon! Come out! We need to talk!"

It took a moment, but the door opened at Gordon peeked out, giving the two hunters a look of interest. "Somethin' wrong?"

"How about the boy you're effectively holding captive?" John spat.

Gordon raised an eyebrow. He sighed, stepping out and pulling the door almost to a close behind him. "Is there something you've got a problem with, John?"

"He hasn't done anything," Dean growled. "You're torturing him and he hasn't even--!"

"Dean," John growled. "I'll handle this."

Gordon chuckled. "Oh, you must be kidding me." He indicated the door. "You did see him, right? You saw his eyes, you saw all the signs. He's a demon. What more proof do you need?"

"Gordon," John said with a smile, "I've known you long enough that I know you won't see reason. So just step aside, so we can take the boy. Otherwise things are gonna get real messy, real fast."

Gordon huffed, looking around the parking lot. "In the public, John? You're gonna attract a lot of attention... And I'm not willing to risk innocent lives by giving the demon any chance to escape."

"And I won't let you continue to use this innocent life for your own twisted satisfaction!" John pulled the trigger of his shotgun, filling Gordon's chest with rock salt and knocking him back into the room.

John and Dean quickly entered the room after him, Dean closing the door and locking it behind them.

_I'll take care of Gordon, _John had said._ You just get the boy and wait for me back in the impala._

Dean could hear Gordon and John struggling against each other, but he forced himself to concentrate on his part of the plan.

Sam was chained to one of the legs of the bed, a devil's trap drawn on the ceiling above him. Some sort of ball gag was laying on the floor beside him. He was laying limply on the floor, apparently oblivious to the drama unfolding around him.

Dean quickly knelt by Sam and started to pick the locks to the manacles. But as soon as he did, Sam gasped and jerked back away from Dean, keening desperately.

"I-I'm not gonna hurt you," Dean tried to reassure. He quickly on the bed and broke the devil's trap, trying to work quickly. "I need to get these manacles off you so we can leave. You understand?"

Sam looked up at Dean, his inky black eyes wide with fear. His face was dripping with sweat and his whole body was trembling.

Dean jerked his head around at the sound of a crash. John had Gordon by the collar of his shirt and had him slammed into a chest of drawers.

Dean turned back to Sam, trying to act quickly. "C'mon, Sam... I'm not gonna hurt you..." He slowly reached out for the manacles that were holding Sam captive. He could see Sam's shaking increase, but he remained still as Dean gently grabbed them and started to pick the locks. "Good..." Dean said under his breath. "See? I'm not gonna hurt you..."

As soon as Dean got the manacles off, there was another crash behind him. Checking it out, he found Gordon unconscious on the floor and John standing over him, breathing heavily. They both looked like crap. "He's not..."

"He's alive," John reassured. Flipping Gordon's body over, he proceeded to tie his wrists together. "Did ya get Sam?"

"Yeah, he's right--" Dean turned back to see empty space. "Sam--?" He looked back and forth a little panicky.

"Deans, he's right here," John said quietly.

Dean looked to where John was refering to. Sam had crawled under the table, his skeletal arms wrapped around one of the table legs. He was watching Dean and John fearfully, his eyes darting back and forth. His frail body was shaking even harder than before, if that was possible. When Dean took in the whole image, he had to admit, Sam looked half dead.

John slowly lowered himself into a crouching position, trying not to startle the boy. Demon. Whatever he was. "We're not gonna hurt you, son," John said slowly. "We wanna take you with us. We're gonna take care of you." John waited a moment to gauge Sam's reaction, but he appeared to have none. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Sam?"

Sam flinched at his name. He slowly nodded his head, but John suspected that Sam was afraid to said no. Realizing they were gonna get nowhere with this right now, he stood up and turned towards Dean. "We need to get him to the impala without attracting attention to ourselves. Preferably before Gordon wakes up."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, that'll be easy."

John pulled the impala keys out of his pocket. "I'm gonna bring her over here so we don't have to walk as far, but you need to get Sam walking."

It took Dean a second to comprehend what John was saying. "Whoa, wait a minute, _me?_"

"Dean, just do it. I'll go get the car..."

Dean sighed as John left. "Great, leave me with the hard job." He looked down at Sam and sighed. _Well, here goes nothing._ He got down on all fours and slowly approached Sam. "Hey, Sam...?"

Sam was staring at Dean with wide eyes, his grip on the table leg tightening. _Well, at least his eyes aren't black anymore_. "Listen, we're gonna need to leave soon, and if you don't move, well then, we can't leave, can we?"

Sam just continued to stare at Dean, his level of comprehension obviously nonexistent. He only seemed to comprehend that Dean was slowly getting closer to him, and Sam's response was to continue holding the table leg tighter and tighter.

When Dean finally got within a foot from Sam, Sam screwed his eyes shut and tucked his head in, his shaking persisting. Dean swallowed hard, not quite sure what to do next. _It may be a demon, but it's innocent... pretend it's just a child. He, _Dean corrected himself._ Pretend **he's** just a child._ He cautiously stuck out an arm, carefully placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam flinched and his body tensed, curling himself tighter around the table leg. "Pl-leeeaase..." Sam keened.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Dean said, trying to make Sam believe. "I swear, I'm not gonna hurt you."

Sam looked up from his curled position, looking at Dean through wide, tear-filled eyes. "Pl-leease... d-d-donnn'... huuuurrt m-meee...."

Dean blinked. That's when he realized Sam really was totally oblivious to everything around him. He wasn't even recognizing words when spoken to him. "Okay..." Dean said under his breath. He placed an arm around Sam's back, bringing his other arm around Sam's front. He ignored how tense Sam became and gently gripped one of Sam's arms, trying to pry him from the table. Dean swallowed hard. Sam's arm really did feel like nothing but a bone surrounded by a single layer of skin.

Turns out prying Sam's arm from the table was an easy job. With almost no muscle mass, Sam's resistance was weak at best. But when Dean finally got Sam detached, Sam started yanking against Dean, pathetic little mewls of distress coming out of him. All Dean did was sit there, holding Sam's arm in a semi-loose grip, while Sam seemed to be yanking with all his might. "'Mmm... s-s-ssorreeee..." Sam whimpered, tears starting to run down his face. "Pl-leeeaase...."

"C'mon, Sam," Dean said quietly. Gripping under Sam's armpits, he hauled him into a standing position. "C'mon, Sam, _stand_."

Sam's legs went ridged and Dean slowly let go, not quite sure if Sam would be able to stay standing. He swayed back and forth, but he managed to stay on his feet.

Dean heard the roar of the impala as it pulled up to the front of the motel room. "Alright, let's go." Dean grabbed one of Sam's and pulled it over his shoulders, placing his other hand around Sam's side as support. Sam tensed under the grip and trembled, but didn't say anything.

"Alright," Dean said under his breath. "Let's go." Dean gave one look back at Gordon, who was thankfully still unconscious.

_We're either being the best Samaritans ever, or the stupidest hunters alive._

* * *

**So, how is the relationship between Sam and Dean gonna develop...? there are some bumps in the road ahead, peeps XD  
**

**Sooo...? Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**I heard Supernatural's been approved for a sixth season!!!! Is it true?!? Can it possibly be true!?!?!  
**

**OMG! I'm soooo sorry its been so long! I've been so busy and only recently recovered from a bad cold, but I sincerely apologize! I hope this chapter makes up for the wait!  
**

**Enjoy chapter seven!**

* * *

John parked the Impala in front of Gordon's apartment as Dean stepped outside with Sam in tow. John swallowed hard at the image. The boy really did look like death.

As they approached the car, Sam's breathing hitched and his body stiffened, but was unable to resist Dean. "G-g-goinng...?"

Dean clenched his teeth, this whole thing starting to become a bit too much for him. "Yeah, we're going." Dean grabbed the back door handle and yanked it open. "Alright, Sam... Let's get you settled so we can go..."

Sam frowned as he looked at the back seat. His look of confusion deepened when Dean removed his arm from Sam and had him sit in the back seat, his legs dangling out of the car.

Starting to feel sick to his stomach, Dean grabbed Sam's legs and put them inside the car. "You can lay down if you want." Dean closed the door and took his seat in shotgun.

"How'd it go?" John asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Gordon's still unconscious," Dean said dully. He turned to look at Sam to find him curled in fetal position against the door, still trembling slightly and mumbling softly to himself. Dean sighed, sitting back in seat. "What are we gonna do now?"

John didn't have a straight answer to that question. "We gonna get out of here, cover our tracks, make sure Gordon can't follow us."

Dean nodded. He turned his head a little and looked at Sam out of the corner of his eyes. "Food."

John raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"We need to get food. I don't care if Sam can survive without it. It's way to freaky to see Sam that skinny.

John glanced over at Dean for a moment before turning his eyes back to the road. "Alright. We can't give him too much to eat though. If his body has any of the same responses as a human's does, then he won't be able to keep much down at the moment.

Dean rubbed his forehead. "I just want him to be at least _normal_ looking."

John silently sighed. _That might take a while..._

John ran into a McDonalds, buying Sam and kid's meal along with their usual. He tossed it onto the backseat as he got back into the car.

Sam's eyes widened almost comically at the colorful box. He just stared at it for a moment before squeezing himself harder against the door, curling back into himself.

Dean sighed in frustration. He got out of the car and ran to the other side, getting into the back with Sam.

Sam gasped in fear, scrambling back against the door, his trembling increasing. Dean ignored this as he closed the door behind him. John, assuming Dean was going to stay back there, started to drive off again. Dean grabbed the 'Happy Meal' and tore it open, grabbing one of the fries. He held it out to Sam. "C'mon Sam, you need to eat."

Sam looked at the offered food, his stomach clenching at the mere sight of it. Sam shook his head. "N-n-nooo...."

_"Here," Gordon said, offering a small plate of food to him._

_They were in some abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. Perfect training grounds in Gordon's opinion._

_Sam eagerly grabbed for the food, his hunger well beyond ravenous. It's been days since Gordon took him away from his home and this was the first time Gordon had fed him. Ignoring the pain of the manacles, Sam grabbed the bread and cheese and ripped off a large chunk with his teeth, quickly chewing and swallowing it before taking another bite._

_Gordon snarled. He picked up his pistol and aimed it at Sam. "Who said you can eat?"_

_Sam paused in his eating, frowning a little at Gordon. "I-I'm hungry."_

_Gordon's lips curled up a little. "Well, that's just too bad." He aimed for Sam's stomach and pulled the trigger._

_"AAHHHH!" Sam screamed, his eyes wide and staring at nothing as the consecrated iron bullet pierced his flesh. He fell to the ground and writhed as the bullet burned his insides, bubbling, frothy blood pouring from the small hole._

_Gordon aimed and shot Sam's shoulder, relishing the inhuman scream of pain that came from the little demon._

_Sam's eyes rolled back as his body burned and sizzled. His insides clenched and burned, the pain enveloping his whole body. He starting going into fits before Gordon grabbed a pair of iron pliers to remove the bullets._

_Sam was sobbing heavily, his body limp on the ground, as the bullet holes slowly started to knit themselves back up. The unimaginable pain was still branded deep into his brain, even as his body healed._

_"Touch that food again, and I empty the whole clip," Gordon growled as he threw the bloody pliers to the side. "Understood?"_

_Sam quickly nodded, fearing Gordon might just empty the clip anyway._

_Gordon smiled. "Good." He stood up and kicked the plate of food in Sam's direction. His hunger pangs now effectively obliterated, Sam backed away from the plate of food until his back hit the wall. He trembled and clutched his stomach, trying to get the residual burning pain to leave his insides.  
_  
Dean sighed, thrusting the fry in Sam's direction again. "C'mon Sam, there's no way you're not hungry."

Sam shook his head, still trying to back away from Dean, his keens getting louder.

Dean closed his eyes and bit his tongue. _What the hell is wrong with this thing?_ Starting to lose patience, Dean grabbed one of Sam's arms, easily pulling it out of Sam's fetal position.

Sam gasped, face scrunched and cowering in fear. "'Mm s-s-sorrreee..."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, stop _apologizing!_" Dean was more desperate than angry at this point. This whole thing was bothering him on some deeper level and it wasn't about the demon thing. He pried Sam's fist open with ease and placed the fry in his hand. He closed Sam's fist back up. "Okay, now _eat_."

Sam immediately dropped the fry and curled back up, wiping his hand on his threadbare shorts.

Dean grunted as he bit back a growl of frustration. He picked up the fry from the impala floor, throwing it in back into the box and grabbing another one. He sighed as he looked back at Sam.

His eyes widened. He looked at the five foot something child, who probably didn't weight more than sixty pounds. He listened to the soft keens of fear and little gasps as he gulped for air. He watched the trembling arms trying to cover his head, which was covered in long, dull, dead hair.

For the first time, Dean saw the _kid_. Saw the young teen who had been tortured and starved for the last several years. Not the demon. But the kid.

Dean blinked. Confusion was assaulting him and he wasn't quite sure what to make out of it. Following his instincts, Dean scooted closer to Sam, slowly wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Sam stiffened and his keens increased in volume, but otherwise, he remained unchanged. Glad he got that far, Dean held out the fry in front of Sam. "You need to eat. There's no way in hell you're not hungry." Sam just squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away.

Dean shifted a little in his seat, Sam cringing in response. Dean's eyes widened a little. "Sam, we're not gonna hurt you."

Sam shook his head, wrapping his arms around his stomach. "N-n-not f-for m-m-m-me..."

Dean sighed, grabbing the 'Happy Meal' box. "This is _all_ for you. We're not gonna treat you like Gordon did." Dean looked down in guilt. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"K-k-killed my m-m-mom...!" Sam said shakily, bringing his head up and actually_ looking_ at Dean. "I-I-I'mm a d-d-dem-mon..."

Dean was a little relieved that Sam seemed to be gaining some coherence, but it didn't really help the overall situation much. "Regardless, you don't seem all that dangerous now." He held up the fry again. "Eat."

Sam looked down at the fry, clutching his stomach tighter.

_"What did I say!?" Gordon yelled, pulling Sam's head back by his hair._

_"I'm sorry!" Sam shrieked. "Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

_"Sorry, my ass," Gordon growled._

_They had been in the abandoned building for over a month now. Sam remained fettered to the floor while Gordon came by everyday to train him. The goal was total submission; total control._

_Everyday, Gordon would put a plate of food out within Sam's reach. And everyday, Sam wasn't allowed to touch it._

_But Gordon had left. And the plate of food was still there. And after a month of nothing to eat, Sam just lost control of himself._

_Gordon returned only a few minutes later._

_And he was not happy._

_"Do you remember what I said last time?"_

_Sam's eyes widened. "No! Please! I won't do it again, I swear!"_

_Gordon stuck the end of his pistol against Sam's stomach. "The whole clip, you demon bitch..."_

Sam jerked and whimpered at the memory. He shook his head hard.

Dean sighed. When he saw Sam clutching his stomach, he frowned. "Does your stomach hurt?"

Sam shook his head. "N-no..."

Dean looked over Sam's body. His shoulders were sharp against his arm, his clothes hung completely loose on him. From the way his shirt hung, Dean could tell that Sam really was as thin as those children in Africa. Not that Dean needed to see the way his shirt hung. Sam's eyes were sunken, his cheek bones stuck out sharply and his face was almost shaped perfectly like a skull.

Yeah, this was a dangerous demon alright.

Dean held out the fry again. "Please eat something, Sam."

Sam shook his head more adamantly. "D-d-don't n-need it..."

"You can't tell me it's fun feeling and looking the way you do," Dean said. He held the fry up. "C'mon, just one fry. Just one."

Sam looked down at the fry in Dean's hand, a mirage of emotions flitting across his face. Finally, Sam gingerly took the fry from Dean. With a shaky arm, he lifted the fry in his mouth and popped it in.

Sam's eyes screwed shut and his face pursed as he chewed the cold slice of potato. His mouth was dry and the potato soon became a sticky paste in his mouth, but he soon swallowed, his whole body tensing automatically. His mouth was tingling and his throat hurt, but besides that, nothing changed.

Dean smiled. "See? That wasn't so bad."

Sam looked up at Dean. "A-are y-you g-g-gonna shhhoot m-me...?"

Dean was taken aback for a second. Then he remembered how Gordon had trreated Sam, and suddenly the statement wasn't all that surprising. "No, Sam. We're not gonna shoot you."

Sam gave a small nod before curling back, an arm across his stomach, which had started to ache.

Dean sighed as he sat back, his mind replaying the last few minutes.

"Deans?" John said.

"Yeah," Dean said distractedly.

"You gonna eat your burger?"

Dean looked at the Big Mac resting in the front seat. He shook his head. "'M not hungry."

John nodded, his own meal growing cold next to Dean's.

* * *

**Sooo...? Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**Hey, this chapter was... interesting to write. Dean kinda caught me off guard... hope you enjoy it :/  
**

**Enjoy chapter eight!**

* * *

It was well into the evening when John pulled over at a motel. He turned off the ignition and sighed. _What the hell are we doing?_ He turned around in his seat to look at the boys.

Dean was seated up-right, his head resting on his chest as he slept. Sam was still in a tight ball, sleeping against the window. His face was scrunched a little in stress.

John ran a hand over his face. _Okay, so I took in a teenager a few years ago after his family was killed by a demon. I've trained him to be a hunter and tried to help him deal. Now I've taken in a freakin' demon with the intention of nursing it back to health. _John leaned back in his seat. _I'm getting soft in my old age_.

It took a few moments, but Dean crawled his way into consciousness, the absence of the impala's roar wakening him. "John?"

John sat up and opened the driver's door. "I'm gonna get us a room. Wake Sam up and get him ready to move."

Dean watched John as he got out of the car and disappeared into the check-in area. Sighing, he looked over at Sam. The..._ boy? demon?_... was curled up in a tense ball, seemingly asleep. From the few orgies that he had participated in, he always thought that people looked most peaceful when they were asleep. However, Sam looked anything _but_ peaceful.

Dean hit the back of his head against the seat. He had never been so confused in his entire life. He _hated_ demons. Ever since he knew of their existence. Dean had made a vow to personally send every single of those sons-of-bitches to hell and to make them all suffer for what they did to his family. After doing a little research, Dean knew that it was unlikely that he would ever find _the_ demon that killed his family. So sending every single one of their asses to hell was the alternative.

Then... there was Sam. Ever since he saw Sam unconscious, stuffed in Gordon's trunk, a strange feeling stirred inside of him. Dean recognized it, but refused to acknowledge it. At first he just went along with it. Sam was a demon that seemed impossible to exorcise. Why not use it to trap other demons?

But when they used him as bait, the whole thing seemed so _wrong_. Demons thrive in pain, laugh it off, talk back. But Sam took it laying _down_. He seemed to be in pain and his body language seemed to scream it. Dean ignored it, telling himself that it was just trying to trick him. Trying to gain his sympathy so he could take advantage of him.

But even John had his doubts. Even he felt as though something was _off_ with this demon.

Dean looked over at Sam. Even right now, _this_ was evidence. The fact that it hadn't killed Dean and John right here and now while they were weaponless was evidence against any evil intentions Sam might have.

Dean rubbed his temple, a headache starting to build. He just couldn't wrap his mind on this 'Sam.'

There was a small tapping noise that drew Dean from his contemplative state. John was looking at him through the window. "You were supposed to be waking him up."

"Oh, right..." Dean said quietly. He bit his lip as he turned back to Sam. _Here goes nothing..._ Dean placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and gently shook it. "Wake up, Sam. Wake --"

Sam jerked awake with a gasp, his eyes darting back and forth. When they landed on Dean, he immediately crawled backwards away from him, pressing his back hard against the door.

Dean raised his hands, trying to show Sam that he wasn't going to hurt him. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Sam. I just woke you up so we could settle down in our motel room."

Sam frowned, his insides coiled tighter than a spring. He looked out of the windows of the car, taking in the images outside. "G-gonna... p-put me in th-the tr-runk...?"

Dean shook his head, getting a little angry for no apparent reason. "No. No one's gonna put you in a damn trunk anymore."

Sam wasn't sure what to make of that. He found himself wondering if there were going to do something worse to him later. He wrapped his arms around himself, holding himself tightly. Apprehension was building up inside of him, waiting for these hunters to torture him in some new and creative way.

John pulled the impala up to their room. "I'll get the stuff. You get Sam."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Why has this kid suddenly become _my_ responsibility?" He turned to Sam, who didn't seem to hear any of the brief exchange. Sighing, Dean got out of the car and went to Sam's side.

Sam's eyes followed Dean carefully, Sam scrambling away from where ever Dean was. By the time Dean reached the other side, Sam was pressed against the door Dean just exited from.

Dean resisted groaning in annoyance. Opening the door he leaned in and said, "Listen, Sam. We need to go into the motel room. I'm not just gonna leave you out here."

Tears welled in Sam's eyes. _This is it. Inside... they're gonna hurt me when we get inside... _He started shaking again, rubbing his arms up and down to get rid of the phantom pricks of pain that just suddenly popped up there.

Dean leaned in and grabbed Sam's arm. "C'mon, Sam."

Sam's body nearly went limp when Dean grabbed his arm. The familiar dead feeling inside his gut came back. The feeling of defeat. He obediently slid towards Dean, head down and eyes averted in submission.

Grateful that it wasn't becoming some huge hassle, Dean gently tugged Sam along, helping him stand, and getting him into the motel room as quickly as possible.

Once inside, John picked up the impala keys and said, "I'll be back in a bit, need to get some stuff."

Dean stared at him incredulously. "B-but, wait! What do I do about Sam?"

"Just... get him settled." And with this, John left, leaving Dean on his own devices.

Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Great. Just great." He looked over at Sam, who was standing in the middle of the room where Dean left him, swaying back and forth a little, but managing to stay on his own feet. "Why don't you..." Dean looked around the motel room for help, "... sit on the couch or something?"

Sam mechanically went to the couch and sat down, his back ridged and straight and his hands laying stiffly on his thighs.

Dean frowned. The way Sam was sitting... it was like he was _expecting_ orders. "Sam, stand up."

Without a beat, Sam stood straight, his eyes still cast downward.

Dean let out a little laugh. _He's following my every word... _"Sam, come over here."

Sam stiffly walked over to where Dean was. He was still swaying a little, but he seemed to be keeping his balance just fine.

Dean smirked. _I have full control over this demon. Oh, I have _so_ got to test this._ "Sam..." Dean gave it a little thought, "Hit yourself in the groin."

There was a pause, but sure enough, Sam brought his hand up and hit himself _solidly_.

Sam let out a groan of pain as he crumpled to his knees. He curled in on himself and rocked back and forth, trying get the pain to subside.

As soon as Sam fell to his knees... Dean felt like the biggest douche bag in the entire world. He knelt next to Sam and put an arm over him. "Shit, Sam... ya didn't hafta..." He bit his lip. He was the one in power. He had full control and as soon as he realized it, he took advantage of it. "Shit, man. I shouldn't have... _God_, I'm a fucking bastard..." An uneasy feeling was spreading through his insides. A gnawing guilt was eating at him. That feeling of control, of power... He didn't like it. He didn't like it _at all_. Dean started to shake. "God, I'm as bad as Gordon..." Dean placed a shaky hand on the back of Sam's head, trying to comfort him. "I'm sorry, Sam. I shouldn't have done that... Sam...? Sammy...?" Dean swallowed as he started to stroke the dirty matted hair, trying to bring Sam some form of comfort. "Sam?"

That pain wasn't that bad really. Really, he's had worse. Much worse. It was just the initial shock. The pain subsided relatively quickly, leaving only residual shakiness. That's when he felt the arm draped over his back and he automatically tensed. Then he heard a muttering next to him. It was... strange. Sam had never heard someone talk like that before. He's only ever heard loud or sharp words that cut your insides cleaner than a knife. But these words... they made Sam _not_ afraid. He had never heard this kind of talk before. At least not to his recollection.

A hand was placed on his head and Sam tensed for the worst. But then he noticed it was shaking. Sam had never been so confused in his life. What was going on? What was this?

"... sorry, Sam. I shouldn't have done that... Sam...? Sammy...?"

The shaky hand started to stroke him and he felt almost immediately... _calmer_. Sam started to cry. It was becoming too much. Too many things were warring inside him and he didn't know which side he was supposed to take.

Sam started to cry, and Dean felt even more douchey than before. "Sam, I am _so_ sorry. I... I was a dick. I don't know _why_ I..." Dean swallowed hard. "Sam... I..."

Sam slowly started to sit up. Dean took his hands away and Sam immediately missed them but didn't complain. That sort of comfort was more than a demon deserved anyhow. Keeping his eyes averted, he sat up and faced Dean. Keeping his head bowed, he waited for another order.

Dean frowned. He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sam?"

Sam flinched but didn't move. "I'm sorry," Sam mumbled, waiting for inevitable punishment.

Dean laughed in incredulity. "What on earth are you sorry for?"

Sam frowned a little and started to shake again, unsure how to answer the question. He wasn't sure what Dean was asking exactly, so he answered with the default. "I-I'm a demon."

Dean sighed, placing his other hand on Sam's other shoulder. He didn't really know how to respond to that. He rubbed the top of Sam's arms instinctively. "We need to get you to eat some more."

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**Okay, I bet some of you are upset about Dean being a douche... well, I figure, you see your entire family get murdered by a demon, get thrust into this world where everything is supposedly made-up, and now you're taking care of a _good_ demon? It's gotta screw ya in the head a little.**

**Sooo...? Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**OMG! I am SOOOO sorry you guys! I've been so incredibly busy lately! After the huge snow storm, my teachers decided that having a combined 5 tests in one week was the way to go. On top of all the hw assignments T^T**

**Anyway, doyleshuny has been bugging me so now I FINALLY finished the next chapter. It's not as long as I would have liked it to be, but it was a pretty natural ending for a chap and I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer.  
**

**Enjoy chapter nine!**

* * *

_Okay, what now?_

Dean thought about what he and John usually did when they got to a motel. Unpack, clean weapons... _I need a shower_. Dean looked over at Sam, who had his eyes cast down away from Dean. _Now that I think about it... Sam smells like CRAP_. Dean hadn't really thought about it before and he didn't really know why, but Sam smelled like rotten fast food mixed with engine grease. Not the most pleasant smell.

"Alright," Dean said softly. "Let's get you into the shower."

It took a moment for Sam to process the words, but as soon as he did, he began to panic. "N-no...! Please! I-I'll be good! Just pl-lease...!"

Dean wrinkled his nose a little in disgust. "Dude, you're _nasty_. You _need_ a shower."

Sam shook his head in fear, starting to crawl backwards away from Dean. "No...! I'll do anything! Please!"

Dean frowned a little. The fear Sam was showing seemed a little irrational. Not wanting to scare Sam any more than he already has and still feeling guilty over what happened a few minutes ago, Dean slowly knelt to Sam's level, swallowing as Sam flinched away from him. "Sam... why don't you want to take a _shower?_"

Sam allowed his eyes to briefly meet Dean's before quickly pointing them downward in submission again. "H-hurts... hurts _bad_... please..." he begged.

Dean let out a little laugh, despite himself. "A shower hurts? Why on earth would a shower hurt? It's just water -- " Dean stopped as Sam flinched at the word. Frowning slightly, he quickly replayed the last sentence in his head. Then, as it clicked, Dean's eyes widened with horror.

"Holy water..." Dean said, more to himself than to Sam. He ran a hand over his face. "God, why didn't I think of that?"

Sam, meanwhile, was mentally hitting himself. _Stupid! Gave him the idea! Are you masochist or something?? Just keep your stupid mouth shut, you fucking idiot!_

"Sam, stop!"

Sam gasped as Dean suddenly grabbed his arms, but then he noticed what his arms were doing. _I guess not _mentally_ hitting myself..._

Dean licked his lips, feeling in every way out of his league. "Sam..." Dean sighed. "It's _not_ holy water. It's just regular water. It won't hurt you."

Sam frowned a little in confusion, shaking a little in Dean's grip. "W-what'dya mean?"

Dean didn't say anything for a moment, trying to think of the most tactful way to do this. "Wait here." Dean stood and quickly walked to the bathroom.

Sam, more confused as ever, leaned forward slightly, his eyes following Dean's form as he disappeared into the bathroom. An innate curiosity was stirring within him. But when Dean came out with a glass of water, Sam quickly cowered back.

Dean knelt in front of Sam again, keeping his eyes on him. He held up the glass to eye level. "Just water. Not blessed or infused with salt. It won't hurt you."

Doubt started to creep into Sam's mind, but he still cowered away fearfully, his eyes glued on the glass.

Dean dipped his fingers into the water then lightly touched Sam's arm. Sam flinched away, feeling the phantom burning on his arm where Dean touched his skin.

But there was no actual pain.

Dean dipped his finger in the water again, gently rubbing it against Sam's arm, a little hope bubbling up inside him when Sam started to relax, a look of confusion on his face. Sam looked at where Dean was rubbing the water on his arm for a moment, then slowly looked up at Dean hesitantly, his frown deepening. _What's going on?_

"See? Not holy water. It's not going to hurt you," Dean said calmly.

Watching Dean tentatively through his greasy bangs, Sam sat up a little straighter. "Why?" he asked quietly.

Dean frowned. "Why what?"

"Why... why... aren't you... hurting me?" Sam asked impossibly quiet, dropping his gaze to the floor.

Dean bit his lip, the words _I have_ echoing in his head. He really had no idea how to answer that question. Heck, Dean didn't even know why he wasn't hurting Sam, even though he's thought all of this through dozens of times in his head already. He blurted out the first thing he could think of.

"You're not evil."

Okaaaay, that really wasn't what Dean was expecting.

Or Sam for that matter. He looked back up at Dean, fear and hesitation in his eyes. _Not evil?_ For years, Sam has had it beaten and branded into his brain that he was nothing but an evil son of a bitch. A demon from hell. Every single person he met punished him for what he was. Used him and then tossed him aside like nothing more than a dead sewer rat.

He couldn't die. He couldn't be exorcised. Gordon was right, he had to keep Sam under control before he killed someone else too. Just like he killed his mother.

When the image of his mother floated up to the surface of his mind, involuntary tears spilled over, falling down his face. He knew Dean would get mad at him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get himself to stop.

Dean looked a little lost when Sam started crying. Soft cries that were interrupted by the occasional little hiccup. Dean's never really dealt with anyone crying before. If there were victims who were crying after the death of a loved one or nearly escaping death from some supernatural entity, then all they really had to do was drop them off at the hospital then get the hell out of dodge before the cops suspected them of anything.

That wasn't really an option at this juncture.

"Hey, buddy..." Dean said forcefully, not really knowing what else to say. Gently placing his hands on Sam's arms, he rubbed them a little. "It's okay... It's..." He closed his eyes and sighed, feeling completely lost. "It's okay, Sam."

Sam flinched a little as Dean placed his hands on him, but didn't move. Dean's words, quite frankly, were anything but soothing. They were obviously ingenuine and forced. But for some reason, Sam almost immediately started to calm down, his cries turning into nothing but the occasional hiccup. Dean's warm callused hands against his arms brought him some sort of strange comfort inside of him. Small as it was, it also seemed to calm Sam's breathing down.

As Sam started to calm down, Dean turned to the bathroom, keeping one hand on Sam's shoulder. "Let's get you into the shower."

Sam stiffened automatically, but then remembered the glass of water. "Won't hurt me..." he said quietly, trying to reassure himself.

Gently gripping Sam's arm, Dean stood, pulling Sam into a standing position. Sam flinched a little, but let Dean do whatever he wanted. _Just do everything he says... maybe he's not lying and it really **won't** hurt._ His trembling intensify as they entered the bathroom, a soft keening escaping from the back of his throat.

Seeing Sam's fear, Dean started the water on low, making sure it was mildly warm. Thankfully, this shower could also be used as a bathtub. He imagined it would be easier for Sam to take a bath instead of a shower. He kept his hand under the water, turning it palm down. "C'mon, Sam. It won't hurt you."

Sam lifted a shaky hand, knowing that if he didn't do it, Dean would probably grab him and _make_ him do it. Holding back for just an instant, Sam squeezed his eyes shut and stuck his hand under the water.

As before, there was a phantom burning, but no pain. No pain whatsoever.

Sam opened his eyes and stared at his trembling hand. It wasn't sizzling or burning up under the water. It didn't feel like acid as it ran over his skin. It just simply... fell over his hand.

Dean watched as Sam flexed his hand under the water in wonderment. He swallowed hard and bit his lip when he saw that Sam's eyes were black again. Seeing the pitless orbs made Dean want to attack, strangle, hurt...

But a hesitant smile was on Sam's face and the blackness started to recede. And not a moment later, Sam just looked like a kid again.

"How old are you?" Watching Sam smile in wonderment made him seem relatively young, but judging from his height, Dean suspected Sam might be older than he looks.

Sam just shrugged, still staring at his hand under the water. "I dunno."

Dean nodded, hoping John was able to get his hands on that folder that Gordon had.

Sam jerked his hand back as Dean leaned forward, putting the water on high, filling up the bathtub. "Alright. You get yourself washed. And holler when you're done."

Sam watched Dean's back as he left the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He looked back at the tub, running his fingers through the warm water. Sam never realized before how smooth and silky water was. When Sam thought back, shifting through his memories, all the water was burning agony, falling on him like thousands of acid-covered needles.

Without taking off his clothes, Sam climbed into the tub, submerging himself under the soothing water. Enjoying the warmth, Sam curled his body under the surface and dipped his head under.

He laughed as he played with the water, making it go back and forth between his hands and making small splashes. He ran a hand through his hair, untangling the knots the best he could and squeezing out the brown dirty excess water.

When the water around him was a murky brown and no longer warm, Sam just sat there in the water, contemplating his next actions. Dean had said to call for him, but if he was doing something, wouldn't Sam be interrupting?

Dean and John... Why they weren't hurting him, Sam didn't know, but he had to make sure not to anger them. Squeezing his arms tightly, Sam silently told himself to follow everything they said to the letter. They seemed to be giving him a chance and he didn't want to screw it up.

Fear curling in his stomach, Sam rested his head on his knee and waited, not wanting to interrupt anything Dean might be doing.

* * *

**I promise to try and update faster T^T Cross your fingers and hope my teachers don't assign more hw. XP  
**

**Sooo...? Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**Oh my god! I am SO sorry for the extreme delay! Thank god it's spring break now, so hopefully that'll mean more updates XD**

**This chapter is much longer than the last so I hope it makes up for the delay :)**

**WARNING: There's some pretty disturbing imagery. Nothing really happens, but the descriptions in this chapter might be unsettling to some.  
**

**Enjoy chapter ten!**

* * *

Dean dug through the bags, seeing what John got. "I'm almost positive that all this will overwhelm him."

John shrugged. "He needs clothes. He also needs all the other essentials. To be honest, I'm surprised his teeth haven't rotted out of his skull.

Dean glanced back at the bathroom. "Being a demon has it's perks, I guess..." he said quietly.

John looked at the young man. "Deans."

"What?"

"I'm... not into the whole touchy feel-ly crap, but... I know this can't be easy -- "

"I'm fine, sir," Dean said. He went back to sorting through all the stuff John bought. "I don't need to... _talk_ or anything."

John nodded, not believing him. He ran a hand over his face. "You remember back at the motel, right? When we were testing Sam? You lost control." Dean flinched at the reminder. "And considering your history, it's not surprising..."

"Not surprising that what? That no matter what they are, I want to send every motherfucking demon back to hell?" Dean swallowed hard, trying to reign back his emotions. "I watched my brother get stabbed in the stomach and neck," he said in a matter-of-factly manner. "I watched my father's dead body fall to the ground after the demon was exorcised. Of-fucking_-course_ I want send every fucking demon back to hell. But Sam..." Dean bit his lip. He had no idea what to make of Sam. The cycle of reasoning that kept spinning in his mind was making less and less sense with each rotation. Still uncertain, Dean met John''s gaze with steely eyes. "I wanna help him. I don't why, I don't know how. All I know... is that I want to _help_ him."

John nodded. "Alright." He looked at the bathroom door. "Think you should check on him?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I told him to give me a shout if he..."

His sentence petered off as he thought things through. Considering what Sam has been through, what are chances that he could holler for any sort of help. Dean was certain that, through Sam's eyes, Dean and John were the ones in power, not unlike Gordon.

"Shit." Dean stood and went to the bathroom door, giving it a quick rap. "Sam, you okay in there?"

Sam jerked a little at the knock on the door. He stared at the door as his mind slowly started to comprehend the question. "F-fine..." Sam responded quietly.

Dean frowned as the barely audible response. "You done cleaning up?"

Sam nodded. Then remembering that Dean couldn't see him, murmured a quiet 'yes.'

"Alright..." Dean went over to the bags and grabbed a t-shirt and sweats. Opening the bathroom door a tad, he tossed the clothes into the bathroom. "You can get dressed into these." With that, Dean closed the door.

Sam looked at the clothes from his position in the tub in confusion. They... they were giving him clothes? Sam looked down at his current outfit. Gordon only got him clothes when his current outfit had been irreparable. In fact, the clothes he had on at the moment were over a year old. He never changed. In fact, Gordon and other hunters would often strip him naked and string him up for humiliation and punishment. _Nothing but an animal, you demonic freak_... _clothes are a privilege that you don't deserve... you only have them so we don't get tagged by the law..._Why Dean and John would be giving him fresh clothes now was a complete mystery to Sam.

But Dean told him to change and the last thing Sam wanted to do was make him angry. So, shivering from the cold, he stepped out of the tub and took his old clothes off. For a moment he looked down at his body. The scars on his wrists and ankles were already starting to heal at this point and any injury inflicted on him had long since healed. He ran his bony fingers down his chest, fingering the ribs that stuck out. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror and quickly looked away, unable to stand the image of himself. He was a freak in almost every way. He even looked inhuman. His waist was sunk in, several inches smaller than his chest in circumference. His hip bones poked out sharply and his limbs were literally nothing but skin and bone. His skin was pasty and translucent and his eyes and hair were dull in color. His wet hair reached down between his shoulder blades where Gordon had last hacked it.

Sam nervously rubbed his hands together as he stood there naked and wet. He knew he had to get dressed as per Dean's orders, but at the moment he was paralyzed. He hadn't looked at himself in nearly a year and to see himself now had Sam frozen as he thought about his pathetic body. Sam quickly wiped the tears that were leaking from his eyes away, knowing he didn't deserve them.

He couldn't remember anything before Gordon. He knew he had killed his mother, but he couldn't even remember her name or face. All Sam knew was what he was now. All he knew was what Gordon and other hunters had told him and as much as he wanted to prove them wrong, they were always right. If he could, Sam would have taken his own life long ago. He had tried on several occasions, but always failed. The first time, he stole a knife and stabbed himself in the wrists and neck repeatedly. It was painful, but he had been desperately hoping for some sort of blissful emptiness to take over, so he bared through it. The emptiness never came though. His only consolation was that Gordon didn't punish him that night. In fact, Gordon smiled, said "good little demon," and left Sam to literally sleep in a pool of his own blood.

Sam grabbed the sweats and slowly put them on. They were extremely loose on him, but the elastic band was tight enough that it didn't fall over his hip bones. He then grabbed the t-shirt and pulled it over his head. It was also a loose fit, but functioned fine for its purpose.

Now, not knowing what to do, Sam sat on the floor and waited for more instructions from either Dean or John.

"What do we do now?" Dean asked.

"What do you think we should do?" John replied.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I don't know, John! That's why I asked!"

John gave a strained smile. "Well, unless we can find some lore on innocent abused demons, we're gonna have to wing this."

Dean gave an incredulous laugh. "Great. And how exactly are we going to 'wing this'? I mean... are we even doing the right thing here? Should we be trying to make him better?"

John frowned. "I thought you wanted to help him?"

"I do. It's just..." Dean rolled his eyes. "None of this makes sense. I mean... what do you think?"

John shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not really thinking anything. As far as we know... Sam is some sort of supernatural entity. But until we have proof that he's dangerous, there's no reason for us to mistreat him in any way."

Dean slowly nodded, hoping John was right. "Do you have that folder that Gordon showed us?"

John nodded, opening his duffel and pulling it out. He opened it, scanning the papers. Most of them were forged to make it look as though Sam had been adopted by Gordon, but there were also some notes that Gordon took, most of them vague. "I looked through it earlier, but there isn't much in here. Sam's original last name was Wesson, but there's no other information about his origins except his birthday. There isn't even any information about his original family or where he was born."

"Maybe he wasn't born..." Dean said slowly. "I mean, we don't know what he is, so we don't really know how he came into being, really. His 'mother' might have been an adoptive mother."

"Maybe..." John closed the folder. "We're going to have to do some digging to see if we can learn anything more about him."

Dean nodded. He towards the bathroom, wondering what was taking Sam so long. Sighing, Dean got up and knocked on the door. "You dressed, Sam?"

There was a moment of silence before a small 'yes'.

Dean opened the door and peered inside. Sam was sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up and his head bowed down. His old clothes were in a small wet pile next to the tub. Dean wrinkled his nose a little at the tub filled with brown water. Walking in, Dean pulled the plug on the tub. "I guess you were really dirty, huh?" Dean looked back at Sam and noticed the water that was dripping from his soaked hair was still brownish in color.

"Really really dirty..." Dean dried his hand off. "Let's go back into the room, 'kay?"

Sam silently nodded and shakily stood, his eyes still cast downward.

Sam's compliance really disturbed Dean, especially since it now reminded him of how he took advantage of it just an hour ago. He really wished Sam would rebel just a little against him, his complete submission unnerving Dean.

Sam stiffly followed Dean back into the main room where John, who was watching silently, was. Sam then walked to the couch where Dean told him to sit.

Dean gave John an exasperated look, silently asking him what do to. John nodded, understanding the silent plea, and stood. He knelt in front of where Sam sat, ignoring Sam's hitched breath as he did. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to answer as truthfully as possible, okay?"

Sam nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on his lap where his hands were twisted together.

Curious about what John was doing, Dean sat on the ground next to him, gauging Sam's reactions.

"When was the last time you had a decent meal?"

Sam's stomach clenched at the question. He gave a small shrug, knowing he's never had one.

"Okay... can you tell me who your parents are?"

Sam frowned, wondering why John was asking these questions. What possible purpose could he have? Didn't he want to know who he had killed? How he killed them? Sam just shook his head in response to the question.

John sighed, a little frustrated on how this was getting them nowhere. "Can you tell me how you met Gordon?"

Sam tensed, his stomach clawing at itself and his body starting to shake. Not wanting to make John angry, he tried to think back to his earliest memories. They were all fragmented and filled with pain and fear. He was much more disobedient back then. More out of control. But he couldn't remember any specifics. He knew that Gordon found him after he had killed his mother. Gordon made sure Sam remembered that fact. But he couldn't remember the actual event.

Dean watched as Sam seemed to fall apart at the question. The stiffness and compliance crumbled away as he his body was submitted to a fearful trembling. A soft keen escaped Sam's throat and Dean found himself feeling sorry for him. Once again, the demon fell away and all Dean could see was the kid. The kid who had been subjected to who knows what horrors. Dean stood and sat on the couch next to Sam. Still feeling way out of his league, he swallowed down his hesitations and wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders.

John blinked in surprise as Dean sat next to Sam and tried to comfort him. He could tell by Dean's expression that the young man was completely uncertain about what he was doing.

Sam flinched at the contact, but was then reminded of when Dean put his arms over him before. Sam unconsciously leaned into Dean's side, soaking up his warmth. Feeling a little more confident, he stuttered out his response.

"I..." He clenched his hands tighter together. "He... f-f-found me... a-after I k-k-killed m' mom..."

John nodded. "When was that?"

Sam shrugged, having no idea how long ago that was. Sam remember nothing before it so it could have been a hundred years ago for all he knew.

John sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere with this. He hated this. He really had no idea what to do and was feeling more than a little lost. "I'm gonna get us some dinner," he said as he stood. "Just... keeping talking to him. See what you can learn."

Dean gave John a look as the man grabbed his keys and left the motel room. He sighed and looked back at Sam, who was still trembling. Even if Sam was a demon, he was also a kid. The more time went by, the more Dean was certain of it. Dean thought about how his own childhood was stripped away and wondered when Sam was ripped away from _his_ childhood. "Can...?" Dean stopped, not wanting to interrogate the kid anymore. He rephrased his question. "Why don't you tell me about your mom?"

Sam frowned. Why on earth would Dean want Sam to tell him about his first murder victim? Sam had no right to even mention her. He had murdered his mother in cold blood. Murdered an innocent person. Hell, Sam didn't even have the right to call her 'mom'.

Dean sighed. "My mom was... really hyper. Loved getting in my business." He had no idea why he was talking about this. He _never_ talked about his family, not even to John. "She was always worried about me... was afraid I'd drink too much then get into a car." Dean bit his lip at the memory of his mother yelling at him after he came home completely wasted. "Course, I didn't stop drinking until she after she died..." He remembered cursing himself for months after his family died, for not fixing himself up sooner. If he hadn't been such a loser, maybe he would have been able to stop the demon... or at least have the decency to die with them.

"H-how she die?"

Dean jumped at the whispered question. He was even more startled to find Sam looking at him with curious eyes. He didn't even comprehend the question until after he got over the shock.

"Um... she was killed. By..." Dean sighed. "By a creature."

Sam looked back down at his hands, not knowing how to react. All Sam knew was what Gordon and others like him said and did to him. He knew nothing about the pain of others. Pain, that is, that he didn't cause. "I... I'm sorry," Sam said, unsure if that was the appropriate response.

Dean gave a little smile. "It's okay, Sam. Not your fault." He rubbed Sam's arm a little, trying to coax Sam out of his shell. "So, I told you about my mom. What about yours?"

Sam visibly drooped in disappointment. Dean's mother sounded like a wonderful person. Sam bet his mother was amazing too, but he had no memory to pull from to confirm this. Besides, what right did he have to any wonderful memory of a person _he_ killed?

"I don' remember," Sam murmured, hoping Dean wasn't angry for his inability to hold up his end.

Dean nodded sadly. "Alright. What do you remember? Before Gordon, I mean."

Sam's insides clenched. "I... I don't."

Dean sat up a little in surprise. "You don't remember anything before Gordon?"

Sam shook his head as he started to tremble again. "G-Gordon... it's all I _deserve_ to know... 'c-cause... I-I'm a d-d-demon..."

Dean sighed, recognizing that Sam was retreating back into his shell. "Right. All you deserve to know." Now he was more curious than ever to know what exactly happened to Sam.

* * *

**Yay for spring break! hopefully more time to write! (remember, reviews spur motivation ;D)  
**

**Sooo...? Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**No spoilers here, but seriously... DEAN! GET OVER YOURSELF! Seriously. I miss the Dean from seasons 1-3. T^T That Dean was protective and big-brotherly. **

**This story really DOES resemble True Brotherhood, doesn't it? -_-' Apparently I borrow from myself. *Fail***

**Anyway, this chapter is not my best written work. Mostly just a layover point in the story :P  
**

**Enjoy chapter eleven!**

* * *

John sighed at his own indecision as he waited for the food. All of this was way too much for him.

He could handle Dean. Hell, he has become very attached to Dean over the last few years. Kid had a good heart. Sure, he had obviously been a raving alcoholic and the town's pimp before he met him. But considering Dean had only been sixteen, John was much more inclined to blame Dean's parents for his behaviour. He knew it wasn't right to think badly about the dead, but Dean's parents obviously did something wrong if their son was that wasted at the age of sixteen.

But after his family died, fueled by a need for revenge not unlike John, Dean sobered up almost immediately and buried himself in hunting. It was not an easy first month, between the grief and the withdrawal from alcohol. But Dean managed to muscle his way through it. While John never let him help on demon hunts, Dean had studied everything he could on demon lore. John was sure that boy could put Bobby to shame at this point. But over the last few years, John has seen how compassionate Dean really is, despite his temper, and it actually made John feel guilty that he's been encouraging Dean to pursue hunting. That boy didn't deserve this life.

But even if John had tried harder to convince Dean to live a normal life, Dean would have still downright refused. He felt as though the responsibility of his entire family rest on his shoulders and wouldn't be lifted until he feels his family has been avenged. And in his mind, nothing else was going to put his mind to rest.

So, John has been dealing with all of this for the last few years. The _last_ thing he needed was to deal with Sam, who seemed like a perfectly fine... thing. But the issues Sam have are way beyond John's call of duty. Even if they proved indefinitely that Sam was, in fact, innocent, he has been traumatized to such an extent that John didn't even know where to start. He couldn't do this alone.

He needed help.

---

For the longest time, Dean just sat there with an arm around Sam's shoulders, his mind wandering aimlessly.

At some point, Sam hesitantly leaned his head to rest on Dean's shoulder. At first, Sam's head just lightly touched his shoulder, testing the waters so to speak. When nothing happened, Sam slowly allowed the full weight of his head to lean there. His body tensed, waiting for some sort of reprimand. But then, when Dean did nothing to hurt him, his body relaxed. He was still trembling minutely, but his bony body was now mostly relaxed against the back of the couch and Dean's side.

Dean watched Sam silently through his process. He wanted to see what Sam would do without Dean's influence. So he didn't even move as Sam tried to allow himself a small pleasure. When he finally started to relax against Dean's shoulder, Dean couldn't help but smile. He gently rubbed his fingers up and down Sam's arm, ignoring how bony it was and trying to get Sam to relax even just a little bit more.

Sam had no idea what he was doing. The feeling of the solid, warm arm on his shoulders was confusingly comforting. Oh, how Sam has yearned for a comforting human touch like this. It made Sam feel guilty, knowing he didn't deserve this kind of _human_ contact, but he couldn't bring himself to shrug it away as he should. It wasn't until Dean's fingers started to slowly rub his arm that Sam noticed that his head was resting on Dean's shoulder. Sam stiffened in fear for a moment, fearing Dean's reaction. But moments passed and Dean didn't do anything. He didn't shove Sam away and spit on him, he didn't try to dump holy water on him, or anything else. So Sam slowly allowed his body to relax, though his shaking didn't cease.

Dean felt oddly... _protective._ He felt this impulse to just wrap his arms around Sam and protect him from everything that Gordon did to him.

Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes when he realized he was thinking this. He wasn't one for the touchy feely crap. In fact, he abhorred anything resembling a chick flick moment. It wasn't like him at all to have these sort of... impulses.

But feeling Sam's skeletal body trembling against his, Dean couldn't help but feel very protective over him. He had no idea why, but the feeling was there.

The voice in his head kept repeating to him that this thing was a _demon_, the same kind of creature that murdered his family. The same god damned thing that ended Adam's life as he screamed for his big brother...

But that voice was getting smaller and smaller the more time he spent with Sam.

He had only known him a few days, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that Sam was harmless. If he was dangerous, he would have at least broken a window by now. Or _something_.

But no. The most damage he's done is to himself. Either by hitting himself or ignoring his human needs, he has only harmed himself since Dean met him just a few short days ago. He may react to holy water and iron and be bound by a devil's trap, but he was the least demonic being Dean has ever met. Demons goad others and thrive on their pain. Hell, sometimes they thrive on their _own_ pain. But from what Dean can tell, all Sam wants to do is hide in the background; bring as little attention to himself as possible and be completely compliant. Dean's met humans more demonic than Sam.

Dean had no idea what Sam was. But the one thing he's sure of is that Sam is _not_ a demon.

---

Sam jumped as John came into the motel room, a spike of fear shooting through him. He sat up straight and leaned away from Dean, silently chiding himself for having given himself that comfort.

Dean jerked his arm away in surprise as Sam jumped. He watched as Sam immediately sat up and stiffened, his gaze downward. Dean was starting to figure out that this was Sam's default position when he didn't know what to do with himself or was scared.

John dumped the food on the table as he shrugged his jacket off. "Eat up. I wanna hit the road as soon as possible."

Dean frowned. "Where we going?"

"Bobby's."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Bobby's? Why?"

John's gaze flickered to Sam's prone form before returning to Dean. "I've talked to him about what's going on. He wants to see us."

Dean nodded. He's met the grizzled hunter only once, but it was a good first impression. He was about John's age, but snarky and really knew his stuff when it came to anything supernatural. Not that John didn't, but John always called Bobby when there was something they needed help with.

Yeah, Sam probably qualifies.

"But first," John said as he sat down at the small table. "We eat."

Dean looked over at Sam, suddenly remembering trying to get him to eat a single fry. _Oh, this should be interesting_. He got up and helped John empty the brown bag of food. His eyebrow went up again as he pulled out a salad.

"Figure it'll be easier for him to get down," John said quietly, avoiding Dean's stare.

Dean looked at John with a small frown. _No way..._

John was _embarrassed_. Whether he was embarrassed for being caught buying salad or being caught trying to do something kind, Dean didn't know. But he did find it very amusing.

John looked at Dean and his eyes narrowed when he saw the smug expression on the young man's face. "What?"

Dean shook his head innocently. "Nothing." He put the salad down and walked back to the couch, a serious expression replacing the look of amusement. "Sam?"

Sam lifted his head slightly in acknowledgment, but said nothing.

Dean sighed as he knelt down in front of Sam. Wanting to get Sam out of his shell but not knowing how, he placed a hesitant hand on Sam's knee. Dean shifted uncomfortably as he felt the impossibly small knee cap under his hand. He doubted he would ever get used to just how skinny Sam was. "We got some food for you here."

Sam stiffened, involuntary tears brimming in his eyes at the mere thought of food and what torture Dean might have in mind.

"I know you don't like to eat," Dean said quickly, trying to keep Sam from getting too upset. "But I promise, we're not gonna hurt you."

Sam's trembling remained steady as he gave a small nod, not really believing him.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "C'mon, Sam. I don't know what Gordon did to you. But I promise, we will not do the same."

Sam nodded uncomprehendingly again and stood, keep his arms down at his sides and his gaze at his feet.

Dean indicated the table. "Let's sit down."

Sam followed Dean numbly and sat down where he told him to. The salad was placed in front of him and he just stared at it. He kept his hands firmly in his lap. His past lessons have made sure that Sam would never even be _tempted_ by food ever again.

John watched Sam with a sort of sadness. He could tell that Sam had no desire whatsoever to even try and eat. What could Gordon have done to push Sam into such a mentality?

Dean nudged the salad toward Sam, desperate for him to gain a few pounds. "C'mon Sam..." Dean said pleadingly. "Eat."

This time, Sam shook his head, still avoiding eye contact.

"Why not?" Dean said. "You obviously need the food. Why won't you eat?"

Sam just shrugged. "Not allowed," he said quietly.

Dean sighed. "Sam. You ate that fry back in the car, remember?"

Sam frowned. He took a moment to try and remember what Dean was talking about. When he did, his stomach clenched at the memory.

"You ate something and we didn't hurt you." _Maybe logic will get through to him_, Dean thought hopefully. "We had no reason for hurting you then because you ate something. There's no reason for us to hurt you now."

Sam swallowed hard, looking at the salad again. His stomach already started to ache at the sight of it. He shook his head again. "Please don' make me..." he whimpered. "Please...?"

Dean closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had absolutely no response for that.

John sighed, leaning forward and stabbing some of the lettuce with the plastic fork. He held it up to Sam's face. "C'mon Sam. Just a bite."

Sam's eyes widened at the fork hovering in front of him. Suddenly feeling cornered and very ill, Sam shrunk back into his chair, his trembling increasing. "N-no..."

John sighed, placing the fork down. He looked over at Dean, who had been watching and now look very disappointed. John looked at him with an expression that said, _Hey. I tried._

Dean really, _really_ wanted to hit something right now. Mentally restraining himself, he started eating his own meal. He was almost ravenous at this point, but felt slightly guilty that he at least had the _ability_ to eat. He turned slightly away from Sam, trying to push him out of his mind for the moment so he could eat his burger in some semblance of peace.

* * *

**Sooo...? Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**No spoilers: So, i've seen the promo and the clips for this weeks ep.... my response? IT'S ABOUT TIME!**

**This chapter was... interesting. Not as good as my last couple, but good enough to post ;)**

**(by the way, when I say I don't think I wrote a chapter all that good, that's because that's honestly what I think. Just me self-assessing myself.)**

**By the way... just out of extreme curiosity, how old are you guys? If you're not comfortable with answering, you don't have to, but I'm just curious who my audience is. (I'm seventeen. ;P)  
**

**Enjoy chapter twelve!**

* * *

Sleep.

Ah, yes, that elusive thing called sleep.

Dean was downright exhausted, but he couldn't seem to relax himself enough to fall asleep. Maybe it was that he was just too tired to force himself to relax?

No. That was just what Dean _wished_ was causing his insomnia.

It really wasn't unusual for Dean to stay up all or most of the night. Every since his family died, Dean had become a very chronic insomniac.

But tonight, it was not the thoughts of his family that was keeping him awake.

It was Sam.

Of course, what else has been on his mind lately? Even by supernatural standards, Sam was a conundrum in of himself. Because while Dean had come to the definite conclusion that Sam was not, in fact, a demon, it didn't stop Dean from wondering what exactly Sam was.

In all of the research that he had ever done, Dean never came across anything that would fit Sam's description. Well, technically a demon fit the description, but not when it came to behaviour. That was the _real_ conundrum.

But, again, if Dean was honest with himself, he'd admit that that's not what was _really_ on his mind.

Dean couldn't help but think of dinner. Sam refused to eat a single bite. Hell, he refused to even _look_ at the food. It bothered Dean. It made Dean want to almost forcibly shove the food down Sam's throat just to get him to eat something. Except he knew that doing that would just traumatize Sam all the more.

Traumatize him. Dean's mind kept circling this topic; the fact that Sam had, indeed, been traumatized. If he wasn't a true demon and mentally just, in fact, a child, then what Gordon did truly did scar Sam psychologically. The evidence was right before his eyes.

He had gotten Sam to open up just a little that evening, when they talked a little about their mothers. Well, Dean talked about his while Sam couldn't even remember his. But then Sam got scared and closed himself off again, claiming he didn't even deserve to remember his mother or anything else before Gordon.

According to the file, Sam was only fifteen years old. God knows how many years he was in captivity under Gordon, or what Gordon did to him in those years. But Dean had full intention to find out.

More than anything, Dean wanted to make Sam _better_. Make him more than the shell Gordon has turned him into. He wants to get to know the Sam that's probably locked away, safe and hidden, in a small corner of his mind.

These thoughts actually scared Dean a little. Never in his life has he wanted to do something for someone else so _badly_. Just something about Sam has hit a chord with Dean. And now he wanted to do everything possible to rectify everything that Gordon did to him.

---

Sam had his eyes closed and was forcing his breathing to remain even, wanting to make absolutely sure the casual observer would think he was asleep.

He wanted Gordon. He wanted Gordon to take him back _now_. He couldn't take this. The not knowing what was going to happen, the unpredictable nature of these two men.

There was a routine of sorts with Gordon. Sam knew what to expect and he knew precisely what he was. No confusion and no beating arond the bush. Gordon knew what he was a treated him as such. Simple and straightforward.

But _these_ two, this John and Dean, they seemed to be at least slightly confused. They knew he was a demon, but that little fact hasn't seemed to sink into their minds yet. If it had, they would be treating him like Gordon and the other hunters had.

And _that's_ what Sam hated. Hated waiting for it to dawn on them exactly what he was. It just made the small things they did for him even worse. Buying him _clothing_ and _food_. Everything would be torn away eventually and Sam knew he would be punished for not doing a better job of letting them know what his place was earlier.

And that knowledge is what makes everything that's going on now just that much more painful.

So, in the time that it takes for these two to realize what exactly Sam is, Sam will fulfill his true role to the best of his ability.

He is a _demon_ and deserves nothing more than to rot in hell. If he can't go to hell, than hell will be brought straight to him.

---

Still unable to sleep, Dean crawled out of bed to go to the bathroom. Damn, why was he so tired, yet unable to get any freakin' sleep!?

After relieving himself, he splashed water on his face, trying to clear his mind. _I'm not gonna be any good to anyone if I'm dead on my feet._

As Dean walked back to bed, he happened to glanced where Sam was sleeping, when he saw a brief gleam in the darkness. Dean froze, looking closer at Sam. He could have sworn Sam's eyes had been open. On closer inspection, Dean saw that Sam's eyes were closed, but his face was tense. As Dean took a step closer, he heard a hitch in Sam's breathing.

"Sam?" Dean whispered. "Are you awake?"

Sam's chest clenched and his breath involuntarily hitched again. His body started to tremble in fear, but he tried to keep the unnecessary movements to a minimum.

Dean sighed. He knew all too well from experience that Sam was definitely faking. "Sammy, I know you're awake." He knelt on the floor next to the couch, waiting for Sam to acknowledge him. "It's alright. Obviously, I can't sleep either."

Knowing it was pretty much useless at this point, Sam regrettably opened his eyes, jerking a little in surprise to find Dean _right_ in front of him.

Dean smirked when Sam finally opened his eyes. "Hey, kiddo. Having trouble sleeping?"

Sam swallowed, his eyes glowing from the small amount of light streaming in from the window. Not knowing what else to do, he slowly nodded.

"Yeah, me too. Again, obviously." Dean looked over at John, who was completely sound asleep. "The old man can sleep through anything though." He looked back at Sam, who was looking at him with big curious eyes. He could feel his stomach clench as he thought about just how damn _innocent_ Sam looked. "Anything in particular on your mind?"

Sam just shook his head and looked away, trying desperately to stay in his role as a demon. This wasn't a conversation a demon should be having... why couldn't Dean just figure that out, already? It would make everything so much simpler...

Dean frowned when he saw that Sam was starting to silently cry. "Hey, I didn't mean to upset you or anything..." He leaned forward and ran a thumb over Sam's cheek to rub the tears away, when Sam jumped back from the touch. He stared at Dean with something akin to fear as his breathing hitched.

Dean hesitated, his hand hovering inches from Sam's face. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Sam. I promise."

Sam didn't respond and the look in his eyes didn't go away. But after a moment, he gave a slight nod.

Dean smiled, rubbing his thumb over Sam's cheeks. Normally, Dean would have never been caught dead doing anything like this. Chicks are the ones who do this kinda crap...

But he could _feel_ Sam relaxing under his touch, and as cliché as it sounded, it made Dean feel so incredibly good to be making someone else feel better. It was different than saving a person's life. This was on a much deeper level that Dean didn't even know he was capable of reaching.

This, more than anything, just intensified the need to help Sam; to make him _better_.

Sam closed his eyes as Dean touched his face again. It was odd... how soothing it was to have a rough thumb gently trying to make you relax. Sam could almost feel the tension fall from his body in small little pieces. It made Sam feel bad that he ended up crying more in response, but... for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel... like he was doing something wrong.

When he realized his tears were falling down more earnestly, he quickly brought his own hand up to try and stop the tears. "Sorry..." he mumbled quietly.

Dean just smiled wider. "It's okay, Sam." He put his hand back in his lap, watching Sam trying to compose himself. "You sure you don't wanna talk?"

Sam nodded automatically, still trying to get his tears to stop. He sat up as he started to hiccup, his silent crying not staying so silent any longer.

Dean watched Sam in sympathy, feeling a little awkward again. Not wanting John to wake up, (not wanting him to see Dean acting like such a girl), he straightened so he was on his knees in front of Sam, and wrapped his arms around him.

Sam only stiffened for a moment as Dean hugged him, almost immediately afterword relaxing into his arms. He didn't even know _why_ he was crying like this. It was just something about what Dean was doing... it made his chest ache and then the tears came. When Dean hugged him, his sobbing just increased, his body shaking in uncontrollable spasms. Sam was starting to drown in some sort of grief, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what was causing this. Finally, instead of trying to work out this strange puzzle, Sam just let himself go. He sobbed hard and long into Dean's shoulder, gripping the back of his shirt tightly. He soaked up the comfort Dean was offering and, in a moment of insanity, hoped that Dean never let go.

It was a little awkward at first. But soon Dean was rubbing his hands up and down Sam's back (cringing as his fingers rubbed over Sam's shoulder bones and ribs) and quietly making shushing noises in Sam's ear, trying to get him to calm down. It started to feel really natural, when Dean suddenly realized what he was doing.

_Dean was sleeping peacefully for the most part. But then he heard the pitter patter of feet and his door slowly squeaking open. Dean mentally rolled his eyes._

_"De?"_

_Dean sighed as he turned over in his bed to face Adam. "What?"_

_Adam shifted back and forth from foot to foot as he fiddled with his pajama tops. "Can I sleep wit' you tonight?"_

_Dean visibly sagged in bed. "Go sleep with Mom and Dad..."_

_Adam sniffed as he brought up a pajama sleeve to wipe his nose with. "Please, De. I'm scared..."_

_Dean sighed. He knew Adam just had a nightmare, but he couldn't figure out why he couldn't just slip into their parents' bed. _**_They_**_ didn't mind. So, Dean lifted the covers, albeit reluctantly, and let his snot-nosed brother crawl in beside him._

_Adam smiled as he wrapped his small arms around Dean's chest and rested his head against Dean's shoulder. "T'ank you, De..."_

_Dean curled his nose up a little as he imagined his brother's snot getting rubbed onto his pajamas, but didn't say anything. He wrapped his own arms around Adam's body and automatically started to rub his back in comforting circles._

_Soon they were both peacefully asleep._

Dean's stomach lurched at the memory. He almost pushed Sam away, not wanting any reminders of the past, especially not now. But Sam was still hiccuping in his arms, his sobbing finally starting to quiet. So, ignoring the small trip down memory lane, Dean just kept soothing Sam until he stopped crying completely and he only had the occasional hiccup.

Slowly, Dean sat back, still keeping his hands on Sam's shoulders. His shirt was wet and starting to get cold, but he kept his attention on Sam. "You sure you don't wanna talk?"

Sam shook his head, keeping his gaze away from Dean. For entirely new reasons, Sam did _not_ want to have eye contact with this man.

It broke Dean's heart that this small skeletal creature in front of him was fifteen years old. At that age, Dean had already had sex several times and gotten drunk more times than he can count.

Suddenly Dean had a horrible thought about Sam being _forced_ into sex, but he quickly pushed that thought away. This was neither the time or place for such thoughts.

Dean sighed, giving Sam a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Try to get some sleep. Trust me, it's not that comfortable sleeping in a moving car." With this, Dean stood and went back to bed. He almost immediately fell asleep, his mind pondering...

_What the hell just happened?_

Sam remained still until he was sure Dean was asleep. He felt the tears well up again, and _goddammit!_ Why was he crying again?

He laid back down and buried his face in the pillow, trying desperate to hide muffle sobs that were bubbling out of his throat.

_What's going on...? What's happening to me?_

John turned over in his bed and finally fell asleep.

* * *

**By the way, I will not be having any rape in this fic, just to let you know :P**

**Sooo...? Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**Been forever since I posted T^T **

**I apologize**

**I'm actually not that happy with this chapter, but I wanted to get SOMETHING up. I'll try and post another chapter soon (like this weekend soon) to make up for it.**

**Though don't expect much for the next month-ish.... Busiest month of High School right now x_x  
**

**Enjoy chapter thirteen!**

* * *

By John's standards, they left relatively late. By Dean's standard's, he could have used four or five more hours of sleep.

But despite the fact that he had to wake up before he could get a decent amount of REM sleep, he was still a little impatient about getting to Bobby's. Bobby was always a voice of reason, so to speak. He would always manage to calm Dean down when he was starting to go off the deep end. Dean's even seen Bobby calm John down a few times. Last time was with a shotgun, but hey, whatever works.

If anyone could figure out what to do with Sam, it would be Bobby. The man was practically the definition of 'research'. He had books stacked everywhere in his house, practically every book you could imagine on supernatural lore from every known culture in the world. It was where Dean learned most of his demonology.

But even if there was nothing in Bobby's books that could help them with Sam, Dean was sure that Bobby would be able to figure out something. At least more than what Dean and John have been able to come up with. Which was nothing.

When they drove through a McDonalds to pick up breakfast, Sam, much like last time, stared at his with food with large eyes before turning away, curling up almost in fear.

Dean, however, more determined than ever to help the boy, climbed in the back with Sam after he had inhaled his own breakfast in record time. Pulling out a hash brown, he held it up to Sam. "Here."

Sam frowned. This was the third time these hunters have tried to actually _feed_ him. He shook his head, trying to clear his head of the confusion. No matter how many times he ran the equation, it just didn't make sense. But their repetitive patterns were now starting to do something more than just confuse Sam; they were starting to implant doubt.

Doubt... that maybe John and Dean did mean well. That they weren't trying to trick him or harm him. That maybe they didn't see him like the few others he has encountered. However, this doubt was still very small in his mind - not nearly strong enough to actually change Sam's ingrained responses.

It wasn't just this though. The events of the previous night kept flashing in his head, making Sam feel more conflicted and confused. He almost wanted a repeat of last night. When Dean wrapped his arms around him, he felt safer and calmer than he had ever been in his collective memory. But at the same time, taking advantage of Dean like that, while he was still obviously unaware of what Sam was, would probably end up with Sam in a worse position than he was before. He started to tremble at the thought of what creative techniques Dean and John would be able to come up when the time came.

Dean jutted his hand out, practically sticking the fried potato under Sam's nose. "You need to eat, Sam."

Sam's eyes flickered to Dean. "No, I don't."

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yeah, so apparently you can survive without food." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I don't really give a shit."

Sam's eyes widened, more shocked than anything else. All of the things to come out of Dean's mouth, that was the last he was expecting.

"I can survive without hamburgers," Dean said with a small smile. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop any time soon." He jerked the hash brown at Sam again. "Besides, it can't be fun looking the way you do."

Sam felt a lurch in his stomach at the mention of his appearance. He automatically cast his eyes downward and curled into himself, rubbing his arms unconsciously as he tried to not think about his emaciated body.

Dean forcefully swallowed down a growl of frustration, letting out a large sigh instead. "Look... I don't know what Gordon did to you--"

"He let me have what I deserve," Sam said quietly, keeping his eyes averted. Suddenly, all those thoughts of Dean holding him again were banished.

Dean gave a look of exasperation. "Well, I don't care how evil something is. I'm still gonna let them eat." He threw the hash brown back in the McDonalds bag and plopped the bag down next to Sam. "You think you're evil. Fine. But you still need to eat."

Sam scooted away from the bag instinctively, his eyes glued on the bag in fear and his throat swallowing compulsively as the bile started to rise. "Please don't make me..." he said, barely a whisper.

Dean's chest ached at the small, terrified voice, but he knew this wasn't something he could just back down on. "Sam, if you eat that one hash brown, I promise not to try to make you eat anything else for the rest of the day."

Sam frowned. The confusion was increasing to the point that he was starting to get a headache. These hunters just _didn't. Make. Sense!_

Dean could see the conflict flitting across Sam's face. Sam _wanted_ to eat. He may not know it consciously, but supernatural being or not, everybody needs some form of sustenance. And at the very least, Sam's body was trying to tell that to Sam. But whatever Gordon did to him, scarred him to the point where he was willing to become so skeletal instead of at least _trying _to eat. However, the fact that Sam seemed slightly hesitant about it was a good start. Dean just needed to try to make it more..._ appealing._

"Forget that you don't think you _deserve_ to eat. Do you _want_ to eat?"

Sam gripped his stomach, refusing to answer the question. Because honestly? How was he supposed to answer it. "Please leave me alone," he mumbled, wishing he could turn invisible.

Dean rolled his eyes, more in frustration than anything else. Then a little voice in his head reminded him that this wasn't going to be a few day fix. There was no way that he could reverse everything Gordon did in just a couple short days. More likely, it would take weeks, even months, at the very least.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed. Just the thought of riding that emotional roller coaster for months made him exhausted.

"Alright," Dean said, conceding. "I won't make you eat anything right now."

Sam visibly relaxed, a tear falling down his face as he closed his eyes in relief. Just by Dean saying that, it felt like such a load had been taken off of Sam's mind. He didn't have to try and figure out another conundrum presented to him by these hunters, or deal with a situation where he might have to potentially make a questionable decision. Now he could relax, albeit only tiny bit so.

As he watched Sam visibly sag, Dean took a moment to mentally chastise himself. If he thought _he_ was going on an emotional roller coaster, it had to be nothing compared to the one Sam was riding. Obviously, Sam wasn't convinced of John and Dean's good intentions. But considering what little they knew of Sam, it wasn't hard to figure out why. Dean was going to have to _really_ think all of this through if he was going to actually help Sam. He took a deep breath, hoping he wasn't making a mistake by saying this. "I'm not going to make you eat anything at the moment, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna stop trying."

Sam shook his head, gripping it with his hands. Dean just kept making everything more and more confusing. Why can't he just STOP? More than anything, Sam just wanted the confusion to go away.

Dean bit his lip, knowing he was causing Sam more distress. "So yeah..." He leaned his head against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. Damn he was tired.

John glanced back at Dean, then Sam, then turned his eyes to the road. "Hey, Sam."

Sam's head shot up quicker than a bullet, his eyes wide in surprise. He gave a jerky nod in acknowledgment.

John was going to _try_ to be as delicate as possible, but that was just not a trait John possessed. "When was the last time you _drank_ anything?"

Dean frowned a little as he looked back at Sam for his response. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen Sam drink anything either. Ever.

Sam shrugged and looked away. "Couple days ago," he whispered.

John indicated the cup holder in the seat next to him. "I got a cup of water for you. Why don't you drink that?"

Sam's eyes few wide again, this time in fear. He flung himself against the back of the chair, quickly shaking his head.

Seeing what was upsetting Sam, Dean quickly said, "It's not holy water!" But when he tried to put a hand on Sam's shoulder, Sam violently jerked away.

"Nonono!" Sam said in a panic. "I'll try harder! I-I'll stay my place! Juststopjuststopjustpleasestop...!" Sam's eyes went glassy and unfocused as he lost himself in his fear. His body trembled as he vomited apologetic words.

Dean was starting to shake starting to feel completely out of his league. Sam was panicking and blinded by fear. So, not knowing what else to do, Dean grabbed the McDonald's cup of water, took off the lid, and splashed Sam's face.

Sam cried out in shock, his hands starting to claw at his face until he realized there wasn't any pain. The burning, boiling sensation wasn't there. It didn't really calm Sam down at all, but it got him to stop babbling and scratching at his face.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed. "It's not holy water, Sam. It's just water." Dean held the cup out to show Sam what was left of it, but Sam still cowered away from it instinctively.

Like before, Dean just dipped his fingers in the water and gently rubbed them against Sam's arm. Sam flinched away, but not as violently as he did before. "See? It's like from the bathtub yesterday. It's not gonna hurt you."

Sam swallowed hard. He stared at Dean's fingers, as if waiting for the burning sensation to start up at any moment. When nothing happened, Sam nodded a little. "Okay."

Dean smiled. "Okay, then why don't you drink some." He held out the cup, hoping Sam would take it.

Suddenly, Sam's throat felt drier than usually and his mouth felt pasty and sticky. Without another thought, Sam tentatively took the cup away from Dean before gulping down the water, some of it drizzling down his face and onto his shirt.

Dean felt a sigh of relief escape him. He felt like he finally accomplished something with Sam. Sure, Sam had miles and miles to go, but this was a start. Right?

Sam just sat there with the empty cup and a physically sense of satisfaction in his mouth, throat and stomach. But he suddenly wanted Dean to wrap his arms around him again and make him feel safe.

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**Sooo...? Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**No Supernatural tonight T^T But the show is comin' back Fridays this fall! XDD**

**The chapter... took me by surprise. On several levels. I'm not sure about some development that have arisen... again, you'll just have to reivew and let me know what you think ;)  
**

**Enjoy chapter fourteen!**

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The next hour or so of the drive was spent in a comfortable silence. In fact, Dean had fallen into a light doze, the purr of the impala almost like a lullaby, he was so tired.

Sam was wide awake still, but he was a little more relaxed than before, actually watching the passing scenery with fascination. Considering most of his travels were done in the trunk while he was with Gordon, Dean wondered if Sam could even remember what it was like to watch the world zoom by.

John had his arm leaning against the open window, his head resting in his hand. He was much more tired than he had thought he was. But driving while tired wasn't an unusual occurrence, so John wasn't the least bit worried about his ability to drive.

Sam suddenly gasped, jumping up in his seat and startling the other car's occupants. Sam was looking around widely, like he was looking for an unseen danger.

John managed to glance back for a moment. "Sam, what is it?"

Sam started coughing, harsh hacks that looked like they were breaking Sam's ribs.

Dean gently placed a hand on Sam's back, relieved when he didn't flinch away. "Sam, what's wrong?"

As Sam continued to cough, John debated whether or not he should pull over. He couldn't think of anything they could do either way, they knew so little about Sam. This might just be another reason why they needed to get to Bobby's sooner rather than later.

The coughing hurt like hell, but Sam knew it would pass. It wasn't the coughing or the ache in his chest that had him panicked. He knew why he was coughing, and he knew what was coming. But _dammit_ he needed to warn John and Dean.

"Eee..." That just made the coughing more intense. Sam tried to squeeze out the word again, but he coughing got worse and more painful with each try.

"Shh..." Dean tried to soothe. "Don't talk, just let it pass."

Sam shook his head wildly, tears streaming down his face from the pain. _The coughing doesn't matter, dammit! There's something coming!_

John spared another glance back, his worry increasing at the sight. But when he looked back at the road...

"Oh SHIT!" John slammed on the breaks, forcing everyone's body to jerk forward with the inertia. The sound of the wheels scraping against the tarmac echoed in everyone's ears until they came to an abrupt stop.

"John!" Dean yelled breathlessly. "What the hell is -- ?"

Suddenly all the doors to the impala flung open. Startled, Dean looked out of the windshield where John was looking and saw a tall man wearing an Armani suit.

"NOO!" Sam suddenly screamed.

The man smirked as he flicked his hand, his eyes turning pitch black.

Suddenly, Dean felt an invisible force fling him out of the car, landing on the road with a loud thump. Dean gasped as the air was knocked out of his lungs, momentarily unable to breathe.

Sam cried out as Dean and John were flung out of the car, leaving the demon and him alone. Cocking his head to the side, the demon stepped up to the side of the car and peered in at Sam, his smile widening at the apparent fear Sam was showing.

Sam trembled as he looked at the demon's face. It was twisted and warped, unrecognizable as human. Just like every other demon, the sort of hideous deformity it had was unique in its own way. Unique to the point where Sam would recognize it if he had seen it before.

"I found you," the demon whispered. "It's about damn time too." The demon's eyes scanned Sam's body. "From the looks of it, you've been lettin' these humans walk all over you. You're better than that,_ Adversi Sarcalogi!_ Fight back!"

John slowly sat up, but didn't move too fast. They were at a complete disadvantage and their only hope at this point was to catch the demon unawares. He looked over at Dean, who gave him a quick thumbs up. John smirked. _That's my boy_. He pulled out his pistol and pointed it at the demon.

"'M not like you," Sam said quietly, though he tried to put some confidence in it. "I'm... I'm n-not _like -- _"

"No, you're not," the demon said, leaning in to pat Sam's head. Sam cringed away from the touch. "You are so much more..." the demon choked on its words. Its eyes widened as it seemingly gasped for air. It quickly stood and spun around, looking for the source of its discomfort.

Dean was staring intently at the demon, quietly muttering a universal exorcism. The demon's face blurred as the exorcism slowly pulled the demon out of the host's body. "You little bastard...!" the demon growled. It extended a hand toward Dean when a shot was fired.

"SONOVABITCH!" the demon cried as the consecrated iron bullet pierced its arm and lodged itself in the demon's shoulder.

John smirked as he took better aim at the demon and fired again.

The demon cried out again, growling in anger. It spun toward Sam, meeting eyes with the young demon.

"Don't worry. I'll be back for you,_ Adversi Sarcalogi,_" the demon said with a satisfied sneer. Whatever its goal was, it seems as though it achieved it.

"_Amen_," Dean spat. He had heard the whole exchange between Sam and the demon, and whatever the demon was talking about, it didn't sound good.

John watched stoically as the demon fled the host in a black cloud, vanishing as it hit sky high. That had to have been the shortest and least violent exchange he's ever had with a demon.

Dean cringed as he sat up, his back protesting the sudden movement. He ignored this as he forced himself to stand and stumbled over to the impala. "You okay, Sam?"

Sam looked at Dean incredulously. A demon that seemed to be after _him_, flung Dean and John out of their car, probably injuring them, and nearly went after them, and Dean was asking if _he_ was okay?

Blinking blankly, Sam's jaw hung slack in shock. His brain just simply unable to grasp what Dean was doing, he said the first thing on his mind.

"A-are you stupid?"

Dean was taken aback by Sam's reaction. One, Sam hasn't really been constantly coherent, so this sort of statement was only slightly ouut of character for Sam. Two, why, of all things, would Sam ask that?

"I'm just asking if you're okay, Sam..." Dean felt like he was treading new water with this development and decided to take it cautiously.

John frowned as he watched what was going on between Sam and Dean. They really needed to get moving before a civilian passed, but John wanted to see where this was going.

Sam was just lost for words. He stuttered for words as he indicated the demon's previous body that was now dead on the pavement then Dean and John. "Are... are you just... _stupid _or something!"

Dean actually smiled in amusement. Sam was clearly flustered and confused, and watching him stumble for words was actually kind of entertaining. "I didn't finish high school, but I never considered myself to be particularly stupid, no."

Sam blinked hard, trying to clear his head. "Why are you worried about _me?_ If I wasn't hear, this wouldn't have even _happened!_"

Dean just shrugged. "That doesn't make it your fault."

Tears started to well in Sam's eyes and, _dammit_! He didn't know why! He pressed his palms to his forehead, trying to force his brain make sense of all of this. "If I wasn't here, this would have happened," he reiterated. "You should be hurting me right now..."

Any humor that Dean found in the situation vanished. The sheer bluntness of Sam's statement making him feel _extremely_ uncomfortable. "We're not gonna hurt you, Sam. Hurting you wouldn't do anything. Besides, you don't deserve it."

"Yes, I _do_!" Sam spat vehemently. "I need to be kept under control, under the wraps. I need to make sure I don't kill anyone." A sob escaped as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Please don't let me hurt anyone else..." he whimpered.

Dean looked over at John imploringly, because he was at a completely loss.

Clearing his throat, John walked over and opened the trunk to the impala. Sam flinched at the sound and started to tremble, but John didn't notice.

John tossed a shovel over to Dean, who caught it with ease. "Let's bury this guy quick and get a move on. The sooner we get to Bobby's, the better."

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**A/N: the small latin phrase in this chapter... yeah... I totally half-assed it. If you take latin, I am _totally_ aware that the usages aren't right, but it serves its purpose for the story :P**

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Sam and Dean would never be allowed to wear shirts  
**

**Sam and Dean are unrelated and 19 and 15.**

**Man... summer is WAY busier than I thought it would be... and not about to get any easier.**

**However, slowly but surely, I will continue to update. This chapter isn't very Sam&Dean intense, but the next chapter will be, I promise!**

**In the meantime...  
**

**Enjoy chapter fifteen!**

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Bobby took a deep breath and set his beer down as he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine. He mentally prepared himself for the challenges that were ahead.

Since he hung up the phone with John the other day, Bobby had already a decent amount of research. He hasn't come up with much, except that there have been isolated incidents of demons living neutrally with humans. However, Bobby couldn't find any information about them beyond the fact that they happened.

Bobby also did some extended research on this Sam himself. What he found was... interesting.

Before disappearing, there were a few odd incidents. Sam had been suspended several times for getting into fights and even bullying. Teachers and the administration reported that Sam was violent and out of control. But, despite this, he kept up perfect grades and test scores. _Which was probably the only reason the school didn't expel him_, Bobby thought.

Then, three years ago, Sam's mother was found in her home with a bullet in her head and her son missing. There was a search, but after a couple weeks, the town gave up. They presumed he had been killed or had died by some other means.

And now Sam was back on the radar. According to John, he's been with Gordon Walker these last few years. Bobby knows from experience, if Gordon walker says something is evil, there was only about a fifty percent chance he was right. From what John said, Sam seemed anything but evil.

Before hand, Bobby broke all the devil's traps and other mystical barriers so Sam could walk freely through the house. He'll put the barriers back up once Sam is inside the house.

Bobby waited until there was a knock on the door before getting up and answering the door. Though he already knew the physical condition of the demon, he still wasn't prepared for the sight.

John stood in front with a stoic expression, as usual. Sam was slightly behind him, head bowed and shaking profusely. Bobby had to keep himself from gasping at Sam's condition. He was quite literally nothing but skin and bones. His skin was pale and unhealthy looking, and his hair was dull and fuzzy from lack of care. Sam's clothes, while not overly large, hung on his bones like misshapen sacks.

That's when Bobby noticed that Sam was slightly leaning. Leaning towards Dean.

Dean was standing right next to Sam, an arm around the shaking boy's shoulders. Once Bobby noticed Dean, Sam looked even more sickly by comparison. But then Bobby noticed that Dean's gaze flickered towards Sam every few seconds, as if to make sure Sam wasn't handling everything _too_ badly.

Bobby gave a mental huff. _This should be interesting_.

"Get in here, ya idjit," Bobby growled at John. "Gotten yourself into another situation... Got to ask myself why I keep helpin' ya."

John gave a strained smile as he walked in, Sam and Dean following close behind. "Thanks, Bobby. Really."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Sit down," he said forcefully.

Sam stiffened at the command, looking at the table Bobby had just indicated. He felt light-headed and dizzy, everything that was happening just simply overwhelming him.

But then Dean gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and stepped forward. "C'mon, Sam," he said quietly. "I _promise_... Bobby's not gonna hurt you."

A small whimper escaped from Sam, but he nodded and stepped forward, taking a seat between John and Dean.

Bobby sat across from Sam, a folder in hand. Wanting to alleviate the boy's fear, Bobby offered his hand. "I'm Bobby Singer."

Sam's eyes widened at the offered hand, flinching back when it was offered. "'M Sam," he said automatically, his gaze glued on the extended hand.

Bobby brought his hand back, not the slightest bit offended. "Nice to meet you, Sam." He opened the folder and pulled something out. To be honest, he had no idea from what angle to take this. But he had a few different places he could start. "You have a beautiful mother."

Sam's fists clenched as he repressed a gag. At the mere mention of his mother, he wanted to vomit. Did this hunter know his mother? Did he know what Sam did to her? _Oh god..._ Sam thought in a panic. "I killed her..." he said through his panic, his voice barely a whisper. "I _killed_ her...!"  
_  
_"Bobby," Dean quickly said, "he doesn't remember anything from before Gordon. Not even his mom."

Bobby slowly nodded, returning his gaze to Sam. Taking in the obviously fearful boy, Bobby nodded and said, "Why don't you two get settled in upstairs. I put an extra mattress in your room, Dean. John, I need to talk to you."

* * *

"We can't do anything until help Sam."

John gave Bobby a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Bobby walked over to the staircase and indicated the upper floor, "...that! John, the boy can barely talk for himself. He's so traumatized and brainwashed that he can't even speak for himself."

John sighed and looked away. He knew Bobby was right, but he still didn't know what he was going to do in the long run with Sam. And until he did, everything in the short run was going to seem convoluted.

"Before we do anything, we have to get him healthy. Both physically and mentally. We can do some research in the meantime."

John scoffed. "Have you found anything yet?"

Bobby sighed. "Not really. I know this sort of thing has happened before, but I can't find any other information besides that. Everything else I found was in relation to Sam himself."

John's eyebrow raised in curiosity. "What did you find?"

Bobby shrugged. "He was a troublemaker at his school, but nothing overly unusual for a boy his age. Lots of fights, a few suspensions... nothing to make anyone suspect that something supernatural was going on."

John slowly nodded. More and more, he wanted to know how exactly Sam got to be in Gordon's hands. Just what happened back then...?

Bobby looked up the staircase again and sighed. "Yeah... does Sam think he killed his mother?"

John shrugged. "That's what he keeps saying. According to Dean, Sam doesn't remember anything, but either Gordon ironed his mother's death into his skull, or he really does remember something."

Bobby shook his head. "John, Sam's mother was found dead in her home three years ago... with an iron bullet in her head."

John stared at Bobby with shock. "An iron bullet? But that means..." He scoffed in disbelief. "_Gordon_ killed her?"

"Well, it certainly seems that way."

"Okay, I've known Gordon to go to pretty low depths, his treatment of Sam being an example. But to _kill_ a human...?" For a moment, John thought about marching up the stairs right then and there to set the record straight with Sam. But...

"We can't tell him, yet," Bobby said. "I doubt Sam would even believe us at this point. We should at least see if he can remember on his own. In the meantime, we just need to help Sam get better."

John thought it over, considering everything that had happened in the last few days, and then slowly nodded. "So you don't think Sam is dangerous?"

Bobby scoffed. "Of course Sam is _dangerous_. But that's not the question you should be asking."

John nodded. "Yeah. Oh, one more thing. We had an... encounter with a demon on the way here."

Bobby's eyes widened. "And you just mentioned this _now?_"

"It really upset Sam. I didn't want to bring it up in front of him."

Bobby narrowed his eyes at John. "John, are you alright?"

John looked at Bobby incredulously. "I'm _fine_. Anyway, the demon was obviously after Sam. We managed to exorcise it before he did any damage. But he was calling Sam _Adversi Sarcalogi_. Does that mean anything to you."

Bobby frowned. He didn't say anything for a minute, obviously thinking it over. "I have a hunch. But I need to do some research before I come to any conclusions."

"Alright," John said with a nod.

"In the meantime, see if you can get Sam to _eat _anything."

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**Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Review and let me know what you think :) Feed the dragon XD**


	16. ApologyExplanation

**Hey guys. Okay, first off, I want to apologize for not updating in... well FOREVER. I also want to apologize for giving you false hope that this was an update.**

**I just want to say that I WILL continue this story. Here is how everything will procede. First, I'm going to finish up The Hunter's Common. Once that story is over, I will work on Devil's Advocate until that story is done. Finally, I will work on Withdrawal until _that_ is done. I will not be starting any new stories until those three are done.  
**


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